


Never Too Late

by Soprano



Series: Never Too Late [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adult Figure Skating, Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Injury, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-11-07 13:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 25,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11060031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soprano/pseuds/Soprano
Summary: Victor Nikiforov was not allowed to pursue skating as a child. In the end he still became a star, even if not quite the kind he had wanted to be.His dream, however, never truly died, and going into his 30s, he decided to enter the world of adult figure skating, with the help of his new coach, Katsuki Yuuri.---------------------------Trigger Warnings: injury, subsequent pain and recovery, neglectful parents, implied death of a companion animal (no details), anxiety.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Victor skated he was 5.  
His parents were away on a science conference and had left him with a friend’s family.  
The family went to the skating rink on the weekend and took him along for the experience.  
He fell in love with it immediately. He didn’t succeed at skating right away, but as soon as he was able to stand on the ice without falling, he knew this was something he wanted to continue doing. He watched other, more experienced skaters gliding around the ice and found it mesmerizing. He didn’t know what it was he was feeling exactly, but it was exciting. Hard, sharp blades and cold, unyielding ice – so much of it was hostile and terrifying, and yet people made such beauty out of it all. He wanted to do that too.  
His babysitters cheered him on as he made awkward circles around the rink, smiling and applauding his fast progress. It was exciting and exhilarating, and over all too quickly.  
On Monday, his parents returned home, and Victor was deposited back in his apartment. His parents’ friend said joyfully that they’d taken Victor skating and that he was really good. His parents smiled politely, but didn’t pay the comment much attention.  
It was the next day that Victor first breached the topic, asking his parents to allow him to skate. They smiled dismissively and said that it was too expensive to skate often, and besides, they had no time to take him to the rink.  
It wasn’t true. Victor knew it wasn’t true. His parents had plenty of time. His father especially. He spent most of his evenings on the couch, watching TV, while Victor’s mother cooked and cleaned. There was no reason he couldn’t take Victor to the rink.  
He said so too, but his father said he was tired after work and needed his rest, and Victor should appreciate that he had a home and food and clothing that came from money his father made at work.  
Victor didn’t argue. 

It wasn’t until he was 9 that he skated again. This time with his aunt who lived in another town and only came to visit occasionally. She took him skating, and he remembered that same feeling from when he was a child, and how much he liked it.  
He brought it up with his parents again, but was met with the same answer.  
This time, however, he didn’t just give up. He kept asking, and asking, and asking.  
He researched, talked to people at the nearest rink. He told his parents it wouldn’t really cost all that much if they just got him a pair of skates. And there were free outside rinks in the winter.  
They pointed out that he was still young and growing, and would soon grow out of his skates, and then they’d have to buy him new ones, and that would amount to more and more money over the years to come.  
He kept asking. And he kept asking. And he kept asking.  
Until his parents threatened to put him on house arrest until he stopped asking and take away his toys and forbid him to watch television. And so he stopped asking.  
He didn’t have an allowance, and there weren’t any viable ways for a child in Russia to make money. Certainly not on any kind of long-term basis. Victor’s parents were right about one thing – skating would require a constant inflow of money. Even if he made the best out of a pair of skates, they still needed to be regularly sharpened, there were still rink fees, especially if he wanted to skate in the warmer seasons, and then, of course, if he wanted to learn, he needed a coach, and that meant more money. That wasn’t something a child could finance on their own.  
So eventually, Victor had to let this dream go.

Victor tried many other creative outlets over the years, but many were met with the same reaction from his parents. They wouldn’t buy him an instrument he could play, they didn’t want to take him to art school or dance class or karate practice, and they didn't want to pay for any of the classes either.  
He eventually found a hobby he could pursue, if only because it required neither effort no money from his parents. He joined a drama club at his school. It was free, it didn’t require any equipment, and it took place in the same building as his regular classes, so his parents didn’t need to do anything, especially after they’ve deemed him old enough to return from school on his own.  
It was in drama class that his singing voice was discovered. His teacher immediately told him that he should attend music school in order to develop his talent, but, of course, his parents rejected the idea, even after the teacher called them at home to try and persuade them. Even when the nearest music school offered them a discount after hearing Victor’s voice. It would still cost money, it would still require effort. So it was still not something they had any interest in doing.  
Years later, Victor would look back on that time and be torn between overwhelming anger and crippling sadness, but back then all he could do was succumb to his parents’ decision and accept his fate once more. 

Victor was the star of his drama club. His acting was decent, if a little lacking in genuine emotion, but his voice and charisma were enchanting, and his drama teacher utilized his talents as well as she could.  
The idea of him going to college to study theater came up eventually, and was, unsurprisingly, dismissed by his parents without much thought. Victor was told that theater wasn’t a real profession, and neither was singing. He was told to find a profession that would guarantee him a steady income, and do his acting thing as a hobby, if he absolutely had to.  
When one night Victor dared to say that he didn’t want to be a scientist or a teacher or a linguist, his father told him that no son of his would be without a higher education or waste his life on singing and acting.  
Both of his parents had come from families of scientists, their own parents and grandparents had all gone to university and acquired degrees and academic titles. For Victor to not do the same had simply never been an option. Victor would go to university and would dedicate his life to something his parents deemed to be worthy of their name. They had decided this long before Victor was born. His own wishes, talents, and hopes were never taken into consideration.

When Victor was 17, he participated in a play that his drama teacher organized in collaboration with one of the city’s major theaters. It was a slightly simplified production of Chicago, and Victor was Billy Flynn.  
Since it required no effort from his parents, Victor was allowed to do this.  
It was bittersweet. Victor enjoyed being in the play immensely, but he also knew that this would likely be the last play he would participate in for a long time, if not ever. He was graduating from school and entering university, which had no drama club, and a brutal curriculum. Acquiring a pointless degree to make his parents happy would consume his life for the next 5 years, and then he would probably get a job he hated and spend the rest of his life dragging himself down a path he didn’t choose. This play was his last hurrah. 

The one and only performance was a smashing success. Victor charmed the audience.  
Including a music producer out on a scouting mission for new talent.  
When Yakov Feltsman approached Victor and his parents about making Victor into a pop star, they rejected him politely, their smiles laced with condescension and disdain.  
This was not the first time Feltsman had dealt with parents of such persuasion, and he knew exactly what to do. He invited them to his studio, razzle-dazzled them with his wealth, his equipment, his history of making kids into stars. And soon enough, the Nikiforovs weren’t quite so dismissive anymore.  
When they realized just how much money their son could be making if Feltsman delivered upon his promises, it suddenly didn’t matter that their son wouldn’t have a higher education, would end the line of scientists and professors in both their families, and waste his life on singing and acting. Suddenly, it was quite alright for him to pursue his artistic dreams, just so long as it made them a lot of money.  
Victor didn’t question his luck, didn’t point out the hypocrisy, didn’t gloat. He signed a contract, and prepared to work.

\---

The first time Yuuri skated he was 5 and a half.  
Well, ‘skated’ is hardly the right word. He mostly collected ice shavings with the front of his shirt. And the back of his shirt. And his pants.  
But he got back up and tried again, and again, and again. Because there was something so enchanting about gliding on ice. When he watched other people do it, there was a strange feeling in his stomach. He felt that if he didn’t do this, didn’t learn how to do it properly, he would forever regret it. So he got back up, and fell again, and got back up, again, and again, until he wasn’t falling anymore. Until he was gliding, on shaky legs and with little certainty. But he was doing it. And he would surely be doing it again.  
When he asked his parents if he could pursue skating, they gladly agreed. He spent his first few months of practice in rental skates, but as his birthday came around, he was taken to a store where he selected a brand new pair of size-adjustable skates. They weren’t the best skates in the world, but they served him well for several years, and he held on to them as a keepsake even when he finally outgrew them both in size and in skill.  
The more Yuuri skated, the more serious he got about the sport, the more he felt that he wanted to do better, become better, learn more than simple elements, do more than a few local competitions for kids. But while he did his best, both practicing for long hours at the rink and spending many more hours in a ballet studio, he lacked something. He was improving technically, and he enjoyed the process of skating, but there was more to it than just spins and jumps. A truly worthy performance required art, inspiration. And Yuuri still struggled to find that.

And then one night, his muse came suddenly and unexpectedly as he was watching Eurovision with Yuuko. She liked that strange contest for some reason and often watched it livestreamed online. Yuuri didn’t quite understand the appeal, but he humored his friend in the same way she humored him about his own hobbies and passing interests.  
Yuuri was barely paying attention to the screen, until the young man representing Russia took the stage and began to sing.  
It was an unusually melodic song, not common for the contest where many favored upbeat numbers that got the audience cheering and dancing. But the young man’s voice and charm turned the ballad into a musical masterpiece. Yuuri couldn’t take his eyes off him.  
It wasn’t long before Yuuri was skating to that very song, finally feeling like his routine was more than just a combination of technical elements, but a story.  
As he stepped off the ice, Yuuko embraced him, recognizing the importance of the moment in a way only a true friend could.  
From that day forward, Yuuri set all of his routines to Victor Nikiforov songs, climbing the figure skating ranks from local, to national, to international. And though the stress of performing in a competition often took away from the pleasure and magic of skating, when Yuuri was on his own, in his home rink, skating to Victor’s songs was the most wonderful thing in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Yakov Feltsman had looked for someone like Victor for quite some time. Someone with enough talent to record quality songs, with looks good enough to charm the target audiences. Someone he could push out of the relative obscurity of the Russian pop music scene and into international stardom.  
Feltsman was famous in the relevant circles, known for his ability to turn kids into stars, make money off their talent and looks, then discard them when they were no longer young and new. Victor knew this too. He knew he had a short window of opportunity to make something of himself with Yakov’s help, and then, maybe, if he was lucky and famous enough, he could continue his career even when Yakov was no longer interested in him.  
So instead of simply following direction, doing as told, singing when told, dancing when ordered, Victor paid attention to the backstage mechanics of show-business and learned. He prepared to someday take matters into his own hands.  
But for now, Yakov was hiring his entourage, buying him songs, organizing his tours, managing his schedule, putting his songs on the radio and his videos on television. Slowly but surely, Victor was becoming a star in Russia, and Yakov was starting to plan his launch toward international fame.  
The first step was Victor’s participation in Eurovision. His performance was a romantic rock ballad which utilized both Victor’s voice and charisma, and was a smashing success. It was the first Eurovision win for Russia in decades, and Victor became both a national hero and an international star overnight. 

It was after this that he finally approached Yakov about writing his own songs, or at least his own lyrics. Yakov was apprehensive, but he also had an open mind when it came to exploring new possibilities.  
Victor’s lyrics were...not at all what Yakov had expected. Many of them were almost painfully sad, but captivating nonetheless.  
Many of the lyrics would be discarded as Yakov deemed them too heartbreaking or a little too deep for mass audiences, or simply not something he believed would sell. Victor had expected as much, and was glad that at least some of his songs would be used. Singing his own words was infinitely more satisfying than performing something Yakov had bought from someone else.  
Eventually, Victor participated in the creative process more and more, writing not only lyrics, but melodies and simple arrangements.  
When his first internationally-released album became a success and he began touring around Europe, he started making quite a bit of money as well. This allowed him many new freedoms, such as having his own apartment, and buying several instruments, which he began playing with varying degrees of success.  
However, the more popular he became, the more busy he was. He toured almost constantly, pausing only to record new music. Yakov often reminded him that if he stopped, he would lose momentum, and someone new would come to take his place.  
Pop music was the world of the young. You could play rock concerts until you died of old age, but there was an expiration date for pop stars. And Victor’s was rapidly approaching.  
He knew Yakov would soon move on to greener pastures, and Victor was quite alright with that.  
The older he got, the less sure he was that he even wanted to continue his career on his own. He enjoyed writing songs, enjoyed recording them, and he certainly enjoyed the attention and the adoration of his fans. But he was also, slowly but surely, losing his drive. He fell into this profession by accident, and while he made the best of it, there was only so much he had to give before he was completely drained.  
More and more of his smiles to the media were fake, fewer and fewer of his songs passed Yakov’s bar for marketability. He had enjoyed this once. If only because it was better than going to university for something he didn’t enjoy at all. But inspiration was draining out of him bit by bit, and without inspiration, you were as good as dead.

\---

Yuuri’s skating career was gradually gaining speed. In his first few years in the Junior division, he’s already won quite a few medals. Most of them silver and bronze, but some gold as well. His best result was a silver medal at the Junior Grand Prix Final at the age of 16. His family was incredibly proud of him as he returned to Hasetsu with his medal. It might not have been first place, but it was still the greatest achievement anyone in the small town had ever accomplished. He became a local hero, even if that barely made any difference in his everyday life.  
Yuuri’s family supported him when he chose to go to Detroit for college, where he trained under coach Celestino, and found a close friend in his rinkmate and eventual roommate Phichit. Yuuri entered the senior division with questionable success. He started skating to music his coach suggested, too shy to insist on his own choices, and it drained quite a bit of passion out of his routines. He still medaled in some of the qualifying events, and once even placed third at Worlds, but his performances were less emotional than they had been during his earlier years.  
It was Phichit who finally cracked the mystery of Yuuri’s flagging inspiration, after comparing Yuuri’s performances from his earliest and more recent years.  
“It’s the music,” he said one night, over dinner, still staring at the screen of his laptop. “All your earlier routines, there’s the same voice, who is that?” He did some googling while Yuuri gradually turned red beside him. “Victor Nikiforov. Oh, I’ve heard of him! You like his–” Phichit finally noticed Yuuri’s rosy cheeks. “Oh.”  
“It’s not...I don’t...” Yuuri stammered out a few aborted sentences before finally getting his point across. “His music inspired me when I was younger. I used to always skate to it. Now coach is picking music for me, and it’s good, but...it’s not the same.”  
“Hmm,” Phichit said with a nod. “We need to change that, don’t we?”  
“Phichit, please, don’t talk to him on my behalf, okay?”  
“I wouldn’t do that, Yuuri. But I think you should talk to him yourself.”

Over a period of several weeks, Phichit gradually, patiently talked Yuuri into bringing this up with their coach. When time came to plan routines for the next season, Yuuri finally gathered up the courage to ask Celestino to allow him to select his own music, bringing one of Victor’s most recent tracks as his choice for the short program. He almost backed down when Celestino asked if he was certain, but that’s when Phichit ever so casually joined the conversation, informing the coach of just how much better Yuuri would skate to a song he liked, citing Yuuri’s past skating history as proof.  
Celestino agreed, and Yuuri once against started skating to Victor’s songs. He soon regained his inspiration, worked harder on his jumps and step sequences, and finally made it into the Grand Prix Final. He placed third. It made him wonder sometimes if being third was his fate. If bronze was the best he could ever be. But the overwhelming support and admiration of his family and skating club made him feel that maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.  
Then he won gold at Japanese nationals. Then he placed second at Worlds.  
Slowly but surely, Yuuri became more than just a local hero in a tiny town on Kyushu, but a national icon. Sometimes Yuuri felt like the weight of the expectations that came with his fame would crush him. But other times, the times when he was skating, alone or even in competition, he was immensely grateful for being able to do what he loved for a living, grateful to everyone who believed in him, who took a chance on him, who helped him. He was grateful to his coach for taking him under his wing, grateful to Phichit who reminded him of how much better he could be when he felt inspired, grateful to Victor for giving life to his routines with his beautiful voice.


	3. Chapter 3

By 25 Victor has parted ways with Yakov. It was amicable, thankfully. Yakov’s found himself a new rising star and was happy to let Victor go. Victor was happy to leave. It was also a relief that he could leave without conflict. Though Yakov was not as powerful as some people believed, he could certainly make Victor’s life difficult if he so desired.   
Victor soon held auditions and gathered a band to accompany him. He took full control of his own material, both lyrically and musically. His music shifted from melodic pop to soft rock, from computer-generated sound to actual instruments.   
He lost much of his fan base. For a while he was in uncomfortable limbo, where his old fans didn’t like him anymore, but new music lovers were reluctant to give him a chance because of his past discography.   
Victor didn’t mind. He knew fame was fickle, but as long as he could still make a living, he would prefer to write and perform songs he liked than continue to beat his old pop songs into the ground with yet another rehash tour.   
His newer albums were far more melancholic than his previous work. Many of his frustrations found their way into this lyrics. And there was no longer anyone to stop him from sharing them with the world.

One night on tour, as he rested in his hotel room after a show, he was flipping through TV channels, accidentally coming across a broadcast of the Junior Grand Prix Final. An old ache found its way into his chest as he remembered a dream he’d once been denied. He knew it was selfish and wrong to feel sorry for himself when he was rich and famous and making his living off something most people could only dream of.   
But he’d never dreamed of this. He enjoyed it well enough. He certainly enjoyed it far more than he would have doing what his parents had chosen for him. But the older he got, the harder it was to pretend that he wasn’t disappointed at how his life turned out.   
There was a clip on TV about one of the young skaters. Yuri Plisetsky. The commentators were gushing over his talent. Apparently, he’d started skating at 11, which was considered quite old for figure skaters who wished to be competitive. Victor let out a sad giggle. Of course, 11 was too old, and here he was in this mid-20s with his latent dreams of skating.   
He wanted to cry. But he didn’t. He turned off the TV and went to sleep.

\---

Just before his 23rd birthday, Yuuri didn’t make it into the Grand Prix Final. He missed it by less than a point.  
Disappointment wracked his mind, and he went back to Hasetsu to attempt regaining equilibrium. It didn’t exactly work.  
He spent most of his days going through the motions, absorbed by self-hate and anxiety. He knew it wasn’t that big of a deal, really. He had many achievements, so this was hardly the end of the world. But it ate at him. The failure. He wondered if he should retire. Wondered if he should have retired earlier, when he was on top. Now his legacy would be his inability to even make it into the GPF. He was certain that that would be what everyone would remember.  
He spent most of his nights curled up in bed with his poodle Vicchan, the one person Yuuri was sure would love him no matter how his career went.  
On one such night he woke up to a strange sound. He found Vicchan next to him, wheezing, struggling to breathe. He immediately woke everyone up, and they rushed the dog to an emergency clinic. It turned out that Vicchan had swallowed a piece of loose wire a few days prior, and it got stuck in his throat and stayed there for days. When it finally shifted, it closed off his airways and cut off his breathing. The doctors assisted Vicchan’s breathing, then performed surgery immediately, extracting the wire, allowing Vicchan to breathe on his own.  
The clinic kept him for a few days for observation, but once he was able to eat on his own, they let him go home to recover.  
Yuuri helped the dog settle on his bed, lying down beside him. He ran his hand through Vicchan’s soft fur and sighed. A knot in his chest loosened and he felt lighter at last. Suddenly, the Grand Prix didn’t really matter all that much anymore. He only ever participated in competitions so he could continue skating without overburdening his family financially, so he could go to college on a sports scholarship. But he’d done well. Better than many had ever expected of him, better than he himself had ever expected.  
He had a family he loved with all of his heart and who loved him back just as much. And his career was not as bad as it sometimes seemed. He hadn’t done as poorly as his mind sometimes liked to tell him. Not getting into the GPF was not the end of the world.  
As Vicchan cuddled up closer to his chest, Yuuri finally forgave himself.

A few days later he went to the rink for the first time in weeks. He didn’t yet know if he’d retire. He didn’t know if he’d ever win another medal, and whether he even wanted to. But he still loved skating as much as he ever did. And he’d continue to do so regardless of the future of his career.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason my brain has decided to switch to writing in present tense here. I apologize to anyone who finds this annoying.  
> I've decided to stick with it, though I don't think I've ever written in present tense before, so this will be an interesting experiment. I apologize in advance for any screw-ups.

Sometimes Victor looks at skating videos. He doesn’t really follow the sport, but sometimes he looks at instructional videos that teach basic elements and wonders if he could still learn. Then he realizes that it’ll only frustrate him, because he never wanted to skate as a hobby. He wanted to complete, he wanted to win medals. And he’d never have that now.  
Then Victor finds out that there are adult figure skating competitions, and a tentative hope blooms in his chest. He knows adult competitions are not nearly as respected or important in the skating world, but it’s something. Something he could still do. Maybe.  
It’s terrifying though. Because with a possibility of success comes a much more statistically likely possibility of failure. And it would hurt so much more now, especially if he were to give up his music career to chase a childhood dream.  
He wonders how much time and effort he would need to put into skating if he were ever to pursue it. He wonders if he could do it while still recording and touring. There were people in show-business who did both music and film, but this wasn’t quite the same. He knows if he were to start skating, he’d need to dedicate himself to it fully, and he wonders if that's even something he's capable of at this point. Wonders if he could pull it off physically, financially, logistically.  
He wonders all this without ever setting foot on the ice. 

In his tentative research of the skating world, he unexpectedly comes across an article that mentions his name. As he goes deeper down that rabbit hole, he learns that there’s a Japanese skater that skates almost exclusively to Victor’s own songs. Victor had never known that. The songs had to have been cleared for use at some point, but that was something lawyers handled, not Victor himself; and no one ever thought to tell him that there’s a competitive figure skater that always uses his songs for his routines.  
Victor watches videos of his performances.  
They are...shockingly beautiful. So much so that Victor feels physically ill. He doesn’t even know why, but those routines, set to his music, are painful to watch. The skater gliding, spinning, jumping...winning. With Victor’s voice playing in the background. It hurts. 

At 27 he is on tour in Japan. He has a few days off, so on a whim he travels to the small town where he knows Katsuki Yuuri lives. The skater that performs to his songs.  
It’s such a strange thing to do, Victor know. Stalkers do this sort of thing.  
Victor dons a disguise as he prepares to walk around Hasetsu. While sunglasses and hats are a favorite among celebrities, a thing that has always served Victor better than anything else when it came to disguises was a skill he’d picked up during his first years in show-business – make-up. With a few well-painted shadows he can change his face enough that he doesn’t quite look like himself anymore. And with a wig that hides his trademark silver hair, he looks like someone else entirely.  
With the use of a map and a lot of dedication, Victor eventually arrives at Ice Castle Hasetsu. He stands outside it for a long time, not sure whether he should enter.  
It’s late. There might not even be any public sessions available at this time. He sighs, berating himself internally for his cowardice.  
When he eventually enters, the rink employee tells him that the rink is currently booked by an athlete, but that an open skate will start in an hour. She apologizes sincerely, even though she’d done nothing wrong, while Victor’s heart picks up pace.  
The rink is booked by an athlete. Could it be? Probably not.  
“Could I watch them skate?” Victor asks after taking a deep breath and regaining his composure. “While I wait.”  
Yuuko hesitates. Yuuri feels more comfortable when he can practice on his own.  
“Maybe if we’re really quiet?” she says. “He doesn’t really like being watched.”  
“I’ll be a fly on the wall!” Victor promises excitedly.  
Yuuko leads him into the observation deck. Victor freezes. It’s him. It’s really him. And he’s beautiful. He glides gracefully across the ice, to one of Victor’s songs no less. It’s one of his sadder pieces, written and composed by Victor himself. One of his songs that he actually likes.  
It’s not a routine, Yuuri is simply practicing elements and skating for his own pleasure between them.  
Victor watches for a long time. Eventually he realizes that a tear has rolled down his face. He knows it’s a dangerous line of thought, but he can’t help but think that he will never do what Yuuri is doing. If he were to start skating, then no matter how much he trains and how fully he dedicates himself to the sport, this is simply not the level he’ll ever be able to achieve. He wants it so badly. But sometimes, for some things, no matter how much you try, how much you want it, how much you believe, it’s simply too late.  
Victor turns around and leaves the Ice Castle. Leaves Hasetsu. Leaves Japan.  
And he doesn’t come back for 4 years.

\---

Yuuri retires at 27, after winning 3 Japanese championships, a World championship, and a Grand Prix.  
He comes back to Hasetsu to decide what to do next. He has some options. He could coach, though he’s not certain if that’s something he’s quite cut out for. He could work at the Ice Castle in some capacity, he would certainly always be welcome there. He could join the family business, which his parents would love, especially now that Mari has left to start her own business.  
His family and friends encourage him to take some time off to consider his future. There’s no pressure, and he certainly deserves a vacation.  
For once, Yuuri decides to take care of himself for a while, enjoying the slow, quiet life in his hometown, so different from Detroit, so different from competitions.  
Yuuri is soon lulled into a sense of calm and security, and he relaxes enough to start thinking that maybe simply staying here, working with his family, would be enough for the rest of his life.  
And then some tourists arrive for the sakura blooming season, and among them is one particular person, a person that has always been a presence in Yuuri’s life. A solid, important, constant, but never physical presence that is.  
Except now he’s right here, in Hasetsu, in his parents’ inn; and Yuuri’s life is ever so gently, carefully, turned upside down. 


	5. Chapter 5

By 31 Victor is completely burnt out. Well, not completely, perhaps, but whatever drive he’d had for his art and his work before is mostly gone. So much of his work is publicity, smiling for cameras, interacting with media, and each year it’s exhausting him more and more. He smiles as brightly as ever and does his best to be nice to his fans, but he has no inspiration and barely any energy left for what he does.  
When he announces his hiatus, there is a wide range of reactions, from deep, entitled vitriol to sympathetic, supportive kindness. None of it would change his decision, because he knows if he continues to work at the same pace, the quality of his music would inevitably drop to shameful levels, and his mental health would suffer greatly. It is time for a break, of undetermined length. And as much as Victor appreciates his fans, they will simply have to accept it. 

He spends the first few months simply doing nothing at all. Then he travels for a bit. On a couple of occasions he tries skating. It’s very disheartening, because he’s terrible at it, and it’s a painful reminder of just how much he would need to learn if he ever wanted to get good at it, how long it would take, and how comparatively old he is to be starting a sport.  
Eventually, Victor decides to go visit Japan again. A very specific place in Japan, that is. Like a proper stalker that he is now, apparently.  
He times his visit to coincide with a sakura blossom viewing festival, as if that somehow makes it better. He goes to the Yu-topia resort, half hoping to accidentally run into Yuuri, half hoping not to.  
He does. In Yu-topia’s lounge. And it’s the absolute most awkward conversation of his life.

Yuuri walks into the lounge of his parents’ resort and finds Victor Nikiforov just...sitting there, eating. At first he thinks he’s mistaken, but then Victor looks up and smiles at him, happy to see him, even though they’ve never spoken to or met each other before.  
Then Victor rises and walks toward Yuuri, first bowing slightly, then extending his hand.  
“Hello!” he says cheerfully. “I’m Victor.”  
“I...know,” Yuuri replies, exploding internally, because who says that, seriously?  
Victor stares, waiting. Eventually Yuuri remembers that Victor is holding out his hand in greeting and finally shakes it.  
The longer Yuuri stares, the more worried Victor becomes. This was obviously a terrible idea.  
“The hot spring is lovely!” Victor says. “Your parents are very nice.”  
Yuuri’s eyes widen comically, and Victor realizes just how inappropriate that is. They don’t know each other. Yuuri is probably terrified of him now.  
“Thanks?” Yuuri says, almost inaudibly.  
“I’m sorry. I just...I know who you are, obviously. I’ve read about you. You used to skate to my songs.”  
This does not have the desired effect. Victor was hoping this would explain his behavior, but really all it does it freak Yuuri out more.  
“I...I have to go.”  
And then Yuuri bolts. Just runs the hell away because he doesn’t know what else to do. He hides in his room. And Victor is left staring after him, not terribly certain what he’s feeling exactly, but definitely not anything particularly pleasant. 

When Yuuri finally decides to come out of his room, having run through several calming exercises and planned for what he was going to say to Victor should he run into him again, it’s already quite late and most of the guests are gone from the lounge.  
Except Victor, apparently. And Minako. And they’re both drunk.  
Minako, Yuuri’s ballet teacher, and Victor, his idol, are getting wasted together.  
Before Yuuri can walk back into his room, Victor notices him, downs the rest of whatever he was currently drinking, and run up to Yuuri on wobbly legs.  
His movements are uncoordinated and he stinks of alcohol so much that Yuuri can barely look at him without flinching.  
And then, just because this all wasn’t bad enough, Victor flings himself at Yuuri and wraps his arms around his neck.  
“Yuuri!” Victor shouts excitedly. “I came here to see you, you know? Did you know that, Yuuri? I’ve seen you skate! You’re so beautiful.” He hiccups. “I wanted to skate, you know, as a kid. I still do.” He pauses, and then his eyes light up as an idea dawns on him, and his face is stretched further by an excited smile. “I know! Yuuri, you’re retired now. You can coach me! You can coach me, and I’ll compete in adult competitions! Maybe I’ll even win something someday! Please, Yuuri! Be my coach!”  
And then Victor falls asleep. Standing up. Arms still wrapped around Yuuri.  
Yuuri barely has the time to catch him as Victor’s body goes slack. He places him on the nearest couch, his mother already approaching with a blanket to cover him.  
Yuuri can do nothing else but stare in shock at Victor’s sleeping form as he begins to gently snore.


	6. Chapter 6

Yuuri doesn’t sleep that night. He runs the one-sided conversation he’s had with Victor over and over in his head, trying to understand whether or not Victor really meant that he said or if that was a joke, or maybe just something a person only says when they’re drunk and would never actually say when they’re sober.   
And if Victor did mean what he said, what difference would that make? It’s not like Yuuri could actually coach him, right? He doesn’t know the first thing about coaching. He certainly has no idea how to coach an adult skater, that’s a whole different thing. And competing? Victor said he wanted to compete. Yuuri doesn’t know anything about adult competitions. He knows the ISU has adult competitions, but that’s about the extent of his knowledge. If Victor wants to skate and compete, he could certainly find someone better. He could afford someone better, surely. An army of coaches, perhaps.   
When the sun begins to rise, Yuuri sighs deeply.   
Part of him is just really mad at Victor for dropping this bomb on him, then falling asleep. This is the worst possible scenario for Yuuri’s anxiety, because it leaves him suspended. An unresolved issue hanging over his head, making him unable to relax.   
He knows Victor didn’t mean to do that, yet here he is. Watching the sun rise.  
He takes Vicchan out for his morning walk. Vicchan is old now and not nearly as active as he used to be, so Yuuri’s walks with him are now just that – walks. They walk slowly around the grounds of Yu-topia, and occasionally they venture out toward the beach, if they’re feeling particularly adventurous.   
The walk helps clear Yuuri’s head a bit, but his anxiety comes back full force as soon as he returns to the inn, to the lounge, where Victor is still sleeping on the couch, because no one had the heart to wake him up and force him to leave.   
Yuuri looks at him and, for a moment, feels completely numb. Because this is all so surreal, and he has no idea what to do. So he runs away into his room.

Victor wakes up to a familiar sensation of dog tongue on his face.  
He opens his eyes slowly to see Vicchan staring at him with what is essentially a poodle version of a smile.  
“Hello,” Victor says and smiles back.   
“Mr Nikiforov, you’re awake!” Yuuri’s father says as he notices Victor stirring.  
Victor winces, his head aching from the sound.  
“Morning.”  
A cup of coffee soon appears in front of him.   
“You sure had fun last night, didn’t you?” Toshiya continues.   
“It appears so.” He sips the coffee carefully. “Thank you.”  
When he’s sure he can move, he finally leaves the couch.  
He spends the rest of the day gradually battling off the hangover. He soaks in the hot springs, actually watches the sakura blossoms, he eats at the inn. He hopes to run into Yuuri again, but it doesn’t happen. In fact, he doesn’t see Yuuri again for 5 days.   
Eventually, he goes to Ice Castle Hasetsu. He never did get to skate there, having run off the last time he came. But now he finally arrives at the right time, putting on a pair of rental skates and stepping out onto the ice to awkwardly glide around with the other patrons. He only falls once in 2 hours, which is a personal record. He still has a hard time moving smoothly, but he’s a little better now than before. He’s a long way from moving freely, and he hasn’t even really tried turning yet without holding onto the barrier, but at least he’s moving. He thinks, perhaps, this is the best he can hope for.   
And all the while, unbeknownst to him, Yuuri is watching.


	7. Chapter 7

Victor is wearing minimal disguise that day – just a brown wig and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. It’s just enough for anyone who doesn’t look too closely to not recognize him.   
Yuuri, however, has no problem at all picking Victor out of the thin crowd of people on the ice. Victor looks good in the disguise, but Yuuri can’t shake the feeling of unease when he looks at Victor with dark hair. It just doesn’t feel right.   
When the public skating session ends, Victor is the last one to step off the ice. He wobbles awkwardly toward the benches. Rental skates don’t come with guards, so the recreational skaters have to cross a few feet of space between the rink and the benches balancing on bare blades.   
Yuuri can’t help but smile when he sees Victor in such a vulnerable position. He spent so many years seeing Victor as a distant star, untouchable and almost unreal, and now in the scope of a week he’s seen him utterly drunk, snoring on a Yu-topia lounge couch, sprawled on the ice after overbalancing and falling, and now wobbling on rental skates like a child that’s barely learning to walk. This all is rather quickly and effectively disconnecting the hypothetical image of Victor the star from the very real Victor the human in Yuuri’s mind.   
Victor sits down to take off his skates. This part is always sad. Not just because the skating is over, but because it pulls him back into reality. On the ice he can pretend that he’s an athlete practicing, improving his skills. But when it’s over he is reminded of the fact that he’s just a tourist in this sport, that he doesn’t even own a pair of skates, that he doesn’t have a coach, that he has no idea what he’s doing, and probably never will.  
“Hello.”  
Victor looks up to see Yuuri standing over him.  
“Hello.”  
“May I sit here?”   
“Em...sure.”  
Victor isn’t entirely certain what’s happening, and, truth be told, neither is Yuuri. So at least they’re on the same page.  
Victor stares at Yuuri. Just stares, for much longer than is polite.   
“Yuuri,” he says softly, “what are you doing here?” What a stupid question, Victor thinks immediately. It’s the ice rink, Yuuri probably came to skate.  
“I came to watch you.”  
Or not.  
“Watch me? Why?”   
“You said you wanted me to coach you.”  
“I...did?”   
After getting drunk at Yu-topia with Minako, Victor found himself with fairly blurry memories. He was usually pretty good at retaining his mental faculties while drinking, and even remembering everything the next day, but unfamiliar alcoholic drinks have clearly done a trick on his brain.  
“Yes, I...nevermind,” Yuuri says hastily, already planning his rapid escape. Clearly, coming here had been a mistake. That’s what he gets for being proactive. “You were drunk. You clearly didn’t mean it. Forget I said anything.”  
He gets up and is about to leave, but Victor grabs his wrist, almost falling over as he’s still wearing one skate.   
“I did mean it,” he says, letting go of Yuuri as soon as he’s certain that he’s not going to run away. “Not sure if I would have asked if I was sober, but I did mean it.”  
Yuuri smiles with relief.  
“Yeah?”  
“Yes, absolutely. If you’re willing. I’ll pay whatever fee you want.”   
Victor thinks, in retrospect, that this is not a very wise thing to say. But somehow he doesn’t think Yuuri would purposefully overcharge him, and he wonders how he’s managed to form such trust toward Yuuri despite them effectively still being nearly complete strangers.  
“I...I don’t think adult competitions pay all that much,” Yuuri says softly. “Even if you win, the prize money will be small.”   
“It’s alright.” Victor shrugs. “I’m rich.”  
His smile is so bright that Yuuri can’t help but mirror it. Then he lowers his eyes and laughter escapes his throat as he realizes that Victor is still standing with one skate on, his other foot clad in nothing but a stripy sock. Victor follows his gaze and joins in the laughter.  
“We’ll need to get you your own skates,” Yuuri says.   
“Definitely,” Victor replies, hope and excitement blooming in his chest.

The next few days are filled with preparations, logistics, scheduling. Victor gets fitted skates, moves from his hotel to a small room in Yu-topia, has his things shipped in from California, where he’s lived and worked the past 3 years. Yuuri works out a practice schedule at the Ice Castle, starts educating himself on the world of adult figure skating, and takes down the posters of Victor in his room. He feels a bit silly for still having them there in the first place, but they'd been on those walls for so long, it never quite felt right to take them down. Now he has to, and for the best possible reason.

In the back of their minds, they are both quietly, viciously terrified of being a complete disappointment.  
And nonetheless, they are also both cautiously, tentatively happy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going into the part of the story where the skating becomes more important.   
> So, I should say that although I do my best with research, my account of the actual adult figure skating world is based on relatively limited information. Though I share Victor's dreams, I don't share his luck, so I am not training with a coach nor have I ever participated in a figure skating competition. Some of the information on how it all actually works is a little difficult to find, so I will do my best to give a decent description, but will have to take creative license where information is limited. I generally won't go into too much detail so as not to misrepresent anything. I apologize if I get anything wrong or extrapolate incorrectly.

Yuuri’s first introduction to coaching is googling “how to coach a figure skater” in 2 languages.  
The search is surprisingly helpful.  
However, the biggest challenge is not in couching a figure skater, but in coaching an adult figure skater. Yuuri couldn’t simply remember his own experiences and pass them on to Victor. Not only is Victor starting at a much later point in life, with a different body and different challenges ahead, but the rules of adult figure skating are also not quite what Yuuri is used to.  
It doesn’t help that a lot of competitive adult figure skaters are people who’d skated as children, then gave up, and then returned to the sport. Victor is starting from scratch. At 31. It will be...something else.  
Yuuri tries with all his might not to show how overwhelmed he is. Victor’s readiness and enthusiasm are both contagious and terrifying. He is prepared to throw himself into the sport entirely, and Yuuri isn’t certain if that’s a good thing or not. 

“We need a plan,” Yuuri says as he helps Victor balance on the ice.  
“Oh?” Victor feigns nonchalance, though he’s dreaded this conversation from the start. The one were Yuuri tells him to curb his expectations and realize where his limits are.  
“We need to take at least a year to simply practice basics, make sure you’re comfortable on the ice, before we even think about preparing for any kind of competition. In fact, it might take more than a year, probably will, but a year is the absolute minimum.”  
“Makes sense,” Victor says, looking down at the ice.  
“Adult figure skating isn’t often pursued as a sole career. People who participate in adult competitions usually have jobs, families, other things in their lives. Though there are also fewer opportunities for them to make money off the skating itself. Junior and Senior division skaters participate in a much larger amount of competitions, they do exhibitions, they have sponsors. Adults have only a fraction of that available, so they train less and and compete less.” Yuuri takes a deep breath. “However, you also have an advantage of participating at different skill levels. So, as soon as you’ve mastered the skills required for participation in the Bronze division, you can start competing, and then progress to Silver and Gold when you’re ready.”  
Victor knows all this, but hearing Yuuri say it somehow suddenly makes it real, makes it not just the hypothetical truth of a distant sport, but something that is now a part of his life, something _his coach_ is laying out to him as part of the game plan.  
“So,” Victor says with a crooked smile, “what does it mean for my day-to-day life?”  
“Well,” Yuuri says, taking another deep breath, willing his voice to remain steady. “For now, we’ll train for 3 hours 5 times a week. I’ve made a work-out plan for you as well. You’ll need to go to the gym at least every other day. We’ll do conditioning, and monitor your progress and health. I don’t know how your body works yet...” Yuuri’s mind chooses this moment to become aware of the potential for innuendo in his words. “It’s important not to overwork you.” Oh, great. “For now you’re at the very beginning levels, so you won’t need as much strength as you will eventually when you start preparing for competition, but being stronger will make skating easier.”  
“Of course,” Victor says, relishing the blush on Yuuri’s cheeks.  
“Also... I’ve scheduled a trip to attend a coaching seminar.”  
“Oh?”  
“Yes, and I’ll take a coarse, and then I’ll need to get registered as a coach.”  
For some reason that sends Victor into a stupor.  
“Right...” he say, and freezes on the spot.  
Yuuri stares a Victor, who is staring into midair, an expression akin to shock on his face.  
“Victor? Are you okay?”  
It takes him a moment to resurface.  
“Yes!” he says cheerfully. “I am. I just...hadn’t thought of that.”  
Yuuri beams at him, because for a moment Victor looked so ridiculously lost, but now his eyes are sparkling as though a new world opened up to him that no one else noticed.  
“Well, it’s not your job to think of that. It’s mine.” Yuuri places himself at Victor’s side so he can monitor his leg movements and make corrections. “Also, we need to get you some knee, elbow, and wrist protection, because tomorrow we’ll be learning how to fall.” 

When this all started, Yuuri was afraid that Victor would be a spoiled celebrity unwilling to put in the work, and unable to suffer the pains that come with a sport. He is disabused of that notion very quickly. Not only does Victor show up on time every morning for practice, but he actually wears his bruises like badges of honor.  
Victor has dreamed of this for years. Decades even. And now that he’s actually training, with a real coach, with a plan and a goal, and a future – every bruise and ache are welcome. Though his skates are comfortable and he’s only a beginner, he knows someday he’ll get blisters, and he almost can’t wait. He doesn’t want the pain or the injuries, but rather what they represent. Dedication, determination, hope. 

Three weeks into his training, Victor sits down on the bed in his tiny room in Yu-topia, plugs in his portable keyboard, and does something he hasn’t done in a very, very long time – he writes a song about happiness.


	9. Chapter 9

Five weeks into Victor’s stay the press finally catches wind of where he is. Victor is shocked it took them this long. Everyone else is just...shocked. Because Yu-topia is suddenly filled with reporters who all want a photograph, a video, an interview, a quote, a scoop, or a blurb.  
Victor handles them the way he always has – with practiced ease, a bright smile, and words that sound friendly, but really don’t reveal anything at all. He talks about his last album, his hiatus, his vague future plans. He doesn’t say a word about figure skating.   
Yuuri watches the exchanges from a safe distance, and is having a bit of a cognitive dissonance. He’s seen so many of Victor’s interviews in the past, and this is always how he is in them. Bright like a star, smiling, charming. But now that Yuuri has actually met Victor, has seen him drunk, sleeping, hurt, surprised...it doesn’t feel right. Victor isn’t entirely different in the public eye and in private, but the public persona is ever so slightly off that it gives Yuuri a sense of imbalance. Like walking down the stairs and finding that the last step is higher than all the others. Like riding in an elevator that suddenly changes its speed, making you lose your sense of gravity for just a moment.  
Nonetheless, Yuuri recognizes the need for a press mask. He’s jealous of Victor, in fact, for being able to put one on. Yuuri’s never quite learned that skill, despite having dealt with press for many years during his figure skating career. 

When the reporters finally disperse, Victor collapses on the couch beside Yuuri.  
“Well, that was exhausting,” he says, resting his head on Yuuri’s shoulder.  
“Why didn’t you tell them?” Yuuri asks quietly, as though he’s scared of accidentally revealing someone else’s secret. “About your skating.”  
“Oh, well...” Victor props his chin up on Yuuri’s shoulder, which isn’t terribly comfortable, but gives comfort nonetheless. “I don’t know,” he lies.  
“You love it so much, you’ve wanted it for so long. I would imagine now that you’re finally skating, you’d shout about it from rooftops.”   
“I will. Eventually.”  
“Eventually?”  
Victor stays silent for a while. Yuuri lets him take his time, not rushing the response.   
“I want to show my skating to the world when I’m actually good at it. Or at least when I’m decent. If I tell them now, they’ll all crowd the Ice Castle and try to get videos of me wobbling on the ice like a baby cow.”  
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of your inexperience–”  
“I’m not. It’s not that.” He sighs, his breath tickling Yuuri’s neck. “I just want the reveal to be impressive.” He’s silent for a few moments, but Yuuri can tell he’s not done talking, so he waits until Victor speaks again. “Plus, there’s always the possibility that I’ll fail. That I never really learn to skate well. Imagine the fun media would have with it if I announce my figure skating ambitions and then not deliver.”  
Oh, Yuuri thinks. Here he thought Victor was just feeding his love to be dramatic, hiding the preparation in order to surprise everyone with a magnificent reveal. But the truth is actually so much sadder.   
“You won’t fail, Victor,” he says quietly, even though he can’t possibly know that, really has no right to give such a promise, but he can’t help it.  
“You don’t know that.”  
“Maybe not,” Yuuri admits. “But I know you’re talented. I know you work hard. I know you have the potential to be as successful as is possible. Of course, we don’t know what will happen. No one ever does. I went into this sport not knowing if I’d succeed either. We do what we can and hope for the best.”  
Victor smiles into Yuuri’s shoulder.  
“Your pep talk is iffy.”   
“Thank you, Victor, you’re so kind.”  
“Anything for my coach.”

Victor progresses quickly. Far faster than Yuuri had expected.   
“You need to practice this slowly,” Yuuri instructs as Victor is tentatively moving backwards. “Just take these tiny steps for now, then we’ll widen your strokes gradually. Don’t rush it or you’ll just fall.”   
Victor is surprisingly good at taking instructions. He actually does what Yuuri tells him, when Yuuri tells him, how Yuuri tells him.  
Of course, Yuuri doesn’t know that Victor goes back to the rink and practices for 2 or 3 more hours without him almost every day. Yuuri also doesn’t know that Victor does stretches beyond what Yuuri has instructed, and spends at least an hour every night doing exercises after he’s already been to the gym.  
Eventually, Yuuri realizes that something’s off when he notices how tired Victor is. Though some level of fatigue is to be expected, Yuuri has put plenty of effort and research into creating a balanced work-out program for Victor. It shouldn’t be making him this exhausted.  
“Victor...” Yuuri says, watching Victor carefully make his way around the rink. “Do you have any illnesses or conditions I should know about?”  
Victor does not look up from the ice.  
“I don’t think so,” he says sincerely enough, but Yuuri can tell Victor is hiding something, and a small part of his mind wonders how he can tell exactly, but he doesn’t dwell on it.   
“Anything else you’re not telling me?”   
Victor doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to lie to Yuuri.  
Yuuri starts skating in circles around Victor. Since Victor doesn’t yet have the skills to effectively evade Yuuri on the ice, he’s forced to stop. Yuuri skates in front of Victor and stares him down until Victor finally looks up and faces his coach.   
They have a staring match for almost a full minute.  
“I may be...adding a bit to your work-out and practice plan.”  
Yuuri’s mouth falls open. Well, this is better than Victor being ill or injured, but damn. He thought they were doing so well on the whole student-coach dynamic, and now it turns out Victor is doing rogue training behind his back.   
“Okay...” Yuuri says, considering his next words carefully. Part of him wants to tell Victor that he’s not a teenager and can’t pull that sort of crap, but that would be counterproductive. Victor is already terrified of being too old for the sport and insecure about his limitations. Throwing them in his face would not be very good coaching. So he tries a different approach. “When I was in Detroit, we had this kid who practiced 7 hours a day, and spent just about all of the rest of his awake time at the gym. Coach loved that at first, because who doesn’t want a dedicated student, right? But eventually fatigue caught up with him and he injured himself right before the first Grand Prix event. He recovered eventually, but he had to sit out a whole season. He had to get a part-time job. He was miserable.” Yuuri sighs. “Listen, I get the desire to practice as much as possible, I really do. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t overdone it myself in the past. But it’s not good. You’ll just get tired and overworked, and you’ll be in pain all the time. You need to pace yourself or you’ll burn out.”   
Victor nods silently. A small, distant part of his mind registers the fact that he’s being scolded like a preschooler by someone 4 years younger than himself, but it doesn’t really matter. Yuuri is his coach, and is also, unfortunately, quite right.   
“I just want to get there faster,” Victor admits. ‘Before I’m too old’, he doesn’t say. ‘Before it’s too late’, he doesn’t say.   
“I know,” Yuuri says softly, extending his arms toward Victor.  
Victor places his forearms over Yuuri’s and lets himself be pulled along as Yuuri glides backwards. They skate in silence for a while, Yuuri occasionally adjusting Victor’s posture with gentle touch. They don’t speak again for a long time, but an understanding settles between them. Yuuri vows to take better care of Victor – not only his physical needs, but his emotions as well. And Victor decides to try his best to never hide anything from Yuuri again.


	10. Chapter 10

Victor effectively starts working at the onsen. Not officially, of course, but Yuuri’s parents will sometimes give him tasks, and he cheerfully fulfills them as if it’s an honor. It’s usually something simple, like folding clean towels or putting away chairs after the inn has closed, but sometimes they’ll go so far as to ask him to clean the shower area or wash dishes, and he does it without complaint.   
Though he knows it’s probably wishful thinking, Victor perceives this as a sign of inclusion into the family. This is a family business, after all. Yuuri isn’t technically employed at the onsen, but he too performs maintenance work on the premises, because this is his family’s business, and he’s part of the family. Victor extrapolates that casually being given the same tasks means that he’s also part of the family. He knows that’s hardly sound logic. But he likes it, so he’s keeping it. 

Eventually Victor stops wearing any kind of disguises, because everyone he meets on a daily basis knows who he is. Hasetsu isn’t tiny per se, it’s not like some of Russia’s villages with a population in the hundreds, but it’s not St. Petersburg or LA either. It’s small enough that people who live and work nearby know each other. And they know Victor now too.   
The media eventually realizes that Victor spends quite a bit of time at an ice rink, and he starts getting questions about it. He responds with a series of masterfully-worded responses that are not quite lies, but also don’t quite reveal the truth, and everyone outside of Victor’s circle of trust ends up with a conclusion that he’s picked up skating to stay in shape. It’s easy enough to deceive them without even trying because no one really expects a pop-rock star to go into competitive figure skating at 31. 

Yuuri attends seminars and courses on coaching, and supplements them with online courses for coaching adult figure skating specifically. He’d like to believe he improves, although he still lives with a perpetual sense of insecurity, fearing that he will fail Victor or that he’s doing something wrong. He does his best not to let it show, however, because one of the things most of his coach training says is to always look confident as that will instill confidence in your students and help create authority.  
Yuuri’s not certain if he wants to be any kind of authority figure for Victor. He’s not sure at all what he wants to be for Victor. Sometimes he’s so unsure that he wants to avoid his student altogether, but he can’t really do that.   
When his uncertainty builds up to truly uncomfortable levels, he starts limiting his contact with Victor to training, avoiding him at the gym, at the inn, and at home.   
Victor doesn’t catch on right away. At first he cheerfully knocks on Yuuri’s door, tries to engage him in conversation at dinner. Then he assumes that Yuuri isn’t feeling well and needs a break from human contact. Eventually he realizes that it’s him. Yuuri is avoiding him specifically.  
For a little while, it sends Victor into a mild panic. He runs the events of the recent days through his head, trying to figure out what he could have done wrong to upset Yuuri, but his memory isn’t that great, and even if it were, he might not have realized that he’s said or done something to upset Yuuri. He fears that, perhaps, Yuuri has finally realized that Victor is a pathetic failure that will never amount to anything good, but is too polite and professional to say so outright, or to drop him as a student.   
In the end, Victor does the mature thing and decides not to assume before he has all the facts. It’s hard to get facts, however, because Yuuri won’t talk to him.  
So, instead, Victor talks to Yuuri’s friends and family, trying to figure out what is going on. 

“Everything he’s achieved, he’s achieved through hard work,” Yuuko says. “But coaching is new to him. He’s never done it before. I think he fears that he’s not doing a good enough job.”

“Yuuri sucks at giving himself the credit he deserves,” Minako says. “I doubt there was ever a moment in his life when Yuuri didn’t think he wasn’t good enough. With skating, with life in general. Coaching is no different. He’s afraid he’s letting you down.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Mari says. “It’s not Yuuri’s either. It’s mostly anxiety, and to a lesser extent, your fame.” Mari smiles at Victor’s confused expression. “You’re a star, Victor. Has it ever occurred to you how intimidating that is? You’ve succeeded in your chosen profession. Now you’ve chosen another one, and it’s up to Yuuri to make sure you succeed in that one too. Even without anxiety, that’s a lot of pressure.” 

Victor wakes up before dawn and goes to the beach, where he knows Yuuri is taking a walk with Vicchan. Yuuri is only ever up this early when he hasn’t slept at all. Victor knows this, despite not having been around Yuuri for very long. It’s one of the first things you learn about him.  
The beach is otherwise empty, so it doesn’t take Victor long to find them.   
He sits down silently, waiting for Yuuri to join him.  
After he does, they sit in silence for a while. Vicchan takes lazy laps around them, finally settling with his head in Victor’s lap.   
“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says.  
“Don’t be,” Victor replies without looking away from the dog in his lap.  
“I just...I’m not sure I know how to do this.”  
“I know, you’re inexperienced as a coach. It’s alright.”  
“It’s not that.”  
“It’s not?” Victor turns to face Yuuri.   
“I mean, that too,” Yuuri says, watching the seagulls in the distance. “It’s just that coaching instructions tends to say you need to build a relationships with your students, and I’m not really sure what kind of relationship to build...with you. I father figure, a friend, a...” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Just wraps his arms around his knees and sighs.  
“Be yourself, Yuuri,” Victor says. “I’d never want you to be anything else.”  
Yuuri isn’t sure he knows what that means exactly, but it’s somehow comforting nonetheless. It’s like a blank card. Like Victor doesn’t actually have an expectation for him. Like he’s willing to accept Yuuri without wanting him to be anything in particular.   
Yuuri knows his interpretation of Victor’s words could be more wishful thinking than reality. But he likes it, so he’s keeping it.  
“Okay,” he says.  
Victor gives him a small, gentle smile, the kind you’d never see in an interview or on a magazine cover, and Yuuri starts to feel the weight he’s been carrying in his chest gradually losing its grip.  
Victor is gently patting Vicchan as the dog is making himself more comfortable in Victor’s lap. Vicchan is so small. Just looking at him makes Victor want to take care of him.  
“You named your dog after me, didn’t you?”  
Yuuri lets out a quiet whine and buries his face in his knees.   
“I did,” he says, his voice barely audible.  
“I’m honored.” Victor continues to run his fingers through Vicchan’s fur, nostalgia hitting him in the gut. “I miss Makkachin,” he says.  
Yuuri finally lifts his head. He moves closer to Victor, causing their shoulders to touch. Victor sighs and sags a little against Yuuri’s body. They share a sad smile, then turn to the sky to watch the sunrise.


	11. Chapter 11

The more time Yuuri and Victor spend together, the better they adjust to each other. Some of it’s easy. Some – not so much.  
There are little things, like the fact that Victor plows through his food in seconds, while Yuuri savors every bite, so dinners often end up with Yuuri barely a third of a way through his meal, while Victor just watches him, having already inhaled all of his.   
Then there are slightly bigger things, like the fact that Victor is an early riser, and Yuuri is very much not. When Yuuri trained in Detroit, he would often be scheduled for evening sessions. But Victor functions better in the mornings, and since Victor is the student, and therefore a priority, Yuuri is forced to adjust. They are at the rink at 8, though Victor is often up before 6, while Yuuri will never set an alarm earlier than 7, only giving himself enough time to brush his teeth, get dressed, and get to the rink. The rest of the time is saved for sleeping.   
Then, of course, there are even bigger things.   
When Victor first found out about Yuuri’s anxiety, he made a decision to be as understanding and supportive as he could. But that is easier said than done. Because, despite his best efforts, Victor doesn’t really understand how Yuuri feels. And it can be so easy to just say ‘Don’t worry about it’, or ‘There’s no need to take it so seriously’, without realizing that Yuuri really, really cannot do that. It’s tempting to think that anyone can cheer up if they just try hard enough, but mental illness isn’t going to go away just because you’ve decided it’s gotten old. Sometimes Victor gets frustrated when Yuuri worries about seemingly irrelevant things, he feels helpless when he doesn’t know how to react, he even gets annoyed when Yuuri repeatedly apologizes for things that aren’t his fault, or shuts down and refuses to talk. Victor has to remind himself that a lot of Yuuri’s reactions are involuntary, has to learn to respect his copying mechanisms, and eventually, learn to become a part of them.  
Victor, for his part, can forget just about anything that isn’t tied to his memory with a strong emotion. He shows up on time for his training sessions, he does his work-out routines precisely, but try asking him for a simple favor and he will simply...forget. It’s almost impossible to plan ahead with Victor because he will simply stand you up without realizing. And no matter how hard Yuuri tries not to get mad, it can be difficult to deal with the fact that Victor is, essentially, completely unreliable. Sometimes, one wants to be given promises that are actually kept, and Yuuri often has to remind himself that Victor’s forgetfulness is a flaw of his biology, not of his character. That no matter how frustrating it is to be forgotten, Victor never does it maliciously. He doesn’t choose to forget his plans or his promises. He simply cannot help it.   
So they adjust. Gradually, carefully, they adjust.   
Victor learns not to assume how Yuuri is feeling, but rather to ask a simple, short question, and then accept the answer even if he doesn’t like or fully understand it. He learns that sometimes Yuuri will not be able to keep him company or share his joy. He learns that sometimes Yuuri simply needs to be alone.  
Everyone in Yu-topia learns not to ask Victor for anything in advance. They know that saying ‘We have a banquet tomorrow, could you come after training and help set up?’ simply will not work, because Victor will cheerfully agree, and mean it, but come tomorrow, he will have long forgotten what he’d promised. So instead, it’s best to call Victor when he’s needed, and he will come, because he didn’t have the time to forget.   
Victor learns to reassure Yuuri even when his worries seem empty and unfounded to Victor himself. He also encourages Yuuri to take his anxiety medication now that he’s no longer skating competitively and doesn’t have to worry about the meds impairing his movement control.   
Yuuri makes notes on Victor’s hands when something absolutely needs to be remembered. It probably wouldn’t work, but Victor enjoys the process of Yuuri writing on his hands so much that it causes him to constantly look at the notes Yuuri’s made, and the emotion helps Victor remember.  
For Victor’s birthday, Hiroko gifts him a beautiful day planner. He appreciates her intention, and he really does like the day planner. But he generally forgets to use it. 

By the time the next year rolls around, Victor’s training is a routine, rather than something new and tentative, and he couldn’t be happier. His progress is evident, he’s becoming more and more certain on the ice. Yuuri is preparing to let him start learning more complex elements. Victor is finally becoming less worried about his future in the sport, because the better he becomes, the more he learns, the less it looks like a glorified hobby, and more like something he is pursuing seriously and with every intention and every chance to succeed.   
And maybe adult figure skating isn’t taken quite as seriously by the sports community as the junior and senior divisions. Victor is learning not to care about that. It matters to him. It’s important to him. The rest of the world will always have its preconceptions, its delusions, its stereotypes. After all, there are people who think figure skating is a sport not fit for men, or not a sport at all. There are people who think Paralympics are pointless. There are people who think ballet is silly. There are people who think yoga is easy. There are people who like to believe things that reassure them of their stereotypical thinking without ever stopping to do some research, to get a better understanding of the things they’re talking about, or, heavens forbid, to try them.   
So Victor stops worrying about how important other people think his sport is or of whether or not the medals he eventually intends to win will be taken seriously. This is the happiest he’s been in years. The most inspired he’s been in years. The most certain he’s been in years.  
Which is, of course, why this is the perfect time for Victor to go and get himself injured.


	12. Chapter 12

One of Yuuri’s absolute biggest fears since he’d become a coach had been that Victor would get injured. Not just because Yuuri would absolutely, unquestionably blame himself, but because Victor, while not old, is not, strictly speaking, young, and it would take him longer to heal, possibly with long-term effects.  
So Yuuri makes every effort to teach Victor how to fall, and watches him as closely as possible to make sure that Victor is safe.  
However, when it does happen, it doesn’t happen in slow-motion like they show it in the movies. It happens so fast that Yuuri barely knows what’s happening before Victor is on the ice, groaning in pain.  
Victor did everything as he’s been instructed, but there’s a difference between practice-falling and for-real-falling. And besides, sometimes things just happen, and no matter how well you’re prepared, you can’t protect yourself completely.  
Victor was gliding backwards and turning. He wasn’t at a very high speed, but when he fell, his arm hit the barrier, and he landed awkwardly on his shoulder.  
For a moment, all Victor feels is pain and panic. Yuuri is next to him in seconds, telling him not to move.  
Once the initial shock subsides, the pain concentrates in points of impact and Victor starts feeling the rest of his body again. At this point he realizes that aside from his arm and shoulder, nothing’s actually injured, and he sits up.  
Yuuri lets out a gasp.  
“I’m fine,” Victor tells him, and attempts to smile, but fails.  
Yuuko comes out of the observation deck, prepared to provide assistance if needed.  
“Do you need to be carried off the ice?” Yuuri asks, trying his best not to sound panicked or patronizing.  
“No, I’m fine, just help me up.”  
When Victor gets up, he winces is pain, but powers through, skating to the rink exit and sitting down on the bench. As Yuuri is taking off his skates for him, Victor chances a look at his arm. There’s a red mark where he’d hit the barrier that he knows will eventually turn into a giant bruise, and his arm is starting to swell. Another pang of panic shoots through him.  
Before he knows it, Takeshi is at the entrance in his car. Yuuko called him as soon as she realized Victor would need a ride, and now he’s depositing the triplets with Yuuko and opening the door for Victor and Yuuri.  
“What happened?”  
“Did you fall?”  
“Are you hurt?”  
The triplets ask a myriad of questions in a combination of languages. Victor tries another smile to reassure them, but fails again.  
The ride to the hospital is quiet and stressful. Yuuri makes a call in advance, and soon Victor is getting X-rayed, looked over, and asked questions about his injury and general health, partially in English, partially in Japanese translated by Yuuri, partially in Japanese answered by Yuuri.  
Victor is becoming more and more morose. Even if the injury isn’t serious, which isn’t very likely, he’ll be forced into a recovery period, during which he will not be able to skate. He is not yet good enough to handle a waiting period. All his progress will be lost.  
“You’ll be fine,” Yuuri whispers.  
“You don’t know that.”  
“I do, actually,” Yuuri says with a lot more certainty than he would have had had he been the one to be injured. “Upper body injuries aren’t as critical for skaters. You didn’t hurt your knees, ligaments or tendons, you didn’t hurt your spine. This will heal and you’ll be fine. It won’t affect your skating.”  
Victor wonders if Yuuri remembers that Victor is also a musician, and arm injuries can be pretty critical for musicians, but he decides not to bring it up. He knows that despite the stoic appearance for his sake, Yuuri is deeply worried, and Victor doesn't want to add to that. Plus, he doesn't really want to think about it himself.  
The doctor returns with the X-ray and a friendly smile.  
“It’s not so bad,” she says in heavily-accented English. “Your shoulder is bruised, but not dislocated. Rest will be enough. Your arm, see, here,” she says, pointing at the X-ray, “really small fracture. No fragments, no bone movement. It’ll heal well.”  
Victor is put in a cast that he is to keep on for 5 weeks. Then the doctor lets him go with some prescriptions for pain and swelling, and instructions to come back when it’s time to take the cast off.  
Takeshi takes them back to Yu-topia, stopping along the way so Yuuri can pick up Victor’s medication.  
Once home, Yuuri takes Victor to his room, waving away his worried parents for now, and helps him lie down in his bed.  
Victor is silent the whole time, and Yuuri isn’t certain what to do next.  
He brings a glass of water from the kitchen, dissolves a packet of pain medication in it and gives it to Victor. He drinks it obediently.  
“Do you need anything?” Yuuri asks. “I could help you if you want to shower.”  
“Not right now,” Victor says quietly.  
The idea of Yuuri helping him take a shower would have been wonderful at any other time, but right now Victor really can’t bring himself to get excited about it.  
Silence falls again. Yuuri sits down on the edge of Victor’s bed.  
“It will be fine. You’ll heal. It’s only 5 weeks, it’s not that long.”  
“Will you let me skate right after the cast is off?”  
Yuuri takes a deep breath.  
“Well, no.”  
“See, so it’s not just 5 weeks. It’s 2 months at least. Maybe more.”  
“Victor,” Yuuri says as confidently as he can, “you can skate in adult competitions until you’re 79. Or even longer, depending on where you’re willing to go. You can handle 2 months of downtime.”  
“Right.”  
Of course, Yuuri knows it’s not as simple as that. Just because Victor could hypothetically compete till he’s in his 70s doesn’t mean he’ll be able to. There’s no way of knowing how well Victor will age, how much he’ll still be able to do 10 or 20 years on, and he needs all the time he has to become as good as possible at his sport. Yuuri knows that Victor knows all this too, but Yuuri is trying to get better at pep talk, so sometimes that means pretending that things aren’t as bad as they actually are.  
“Try to concentrate on healing, alright?”  
“Sure. Sleep, take the meds, think happy thoughts,” Victor says, sinking into the pillow, feeling completely defeated.  
He didn’t meant to be so bitter, but he’s in pain and angry. He knows it’s wrong to drag Yuuri down with him into misery, but he has a hard time being cheerful, or even nice.  
It’s painful for Yuuri to see Victor like this. He wishes desperately that he could cheer him up somehow, but there’s also no denying that Victor has every right to feel down.  
“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says quietly.  
He’s not even sure why he’s saying it. He knows, for the most part, that none of this is his fault. He feels responsible as Victor’s coach, but he knows sometimes there’s simply nothing you can do. There was no way he could have prevented this injury from happening other than physically guarding Victor every single second of his training and catching him every time he fell. And even then there’s no guarantee he could have stopped Victor from getting hurt. He knows he isn’t really at fault, but he still feels the need to apologize.  
Victor understands this. Or rather, he knows that this is a thing that Yuuri’s brain does sometimes. He needs to express that he's sorry, even if he's not at fault.  
Victor extends his uninjured arm toward Yuuri. Yuuri silently takes his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.  
“You’re a good coach, Yuuri,” he says, closing his eyes and sinking deeper into his mattress.  
“You’re a good student.”  
The medication has a slight sedative effect and Victor is starting to get sleepy. Exhaustion catches up to him rapidly, and as soon as the pain subsides enough that he can relax fully he falls asleep, leaving Yuuri alone in the waking world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are at least 3 versions of this chapter's ending. The original one was less morose, with Victor cheering up and laughing toward the end, but I think this is probably more realistic. When I broke a bone, I did not feel like laughing for quite a long time. Victor might be a generally more cheerful person than me, but he should have the right to be sad too when shit happens.


	13. Chapter 13

Victor wakes up with a pillow under his injured arm.  
Yuuri has brought several pillows while Victor was sleeping. He wanted to find the right size so that Victor’s arm would be cushioned, but his shoulder wouldn’t get aggravated, so he selected a small, soft pillow that hugged Victor’s cast without raising his arm too high up.   
As soon as Victor is awake enough to be fully aware of his body, he starts wishing he could just go back to sleep. Forever, preferably. Or for 5 weeks, at least.  
The pain isn’t intolerable, but it’s ever-present. Even when he doesn’t move, there’s a constant ache in his shoulder and arm. If he’d only been injured in one spot, it would probably be less irritating, but having 2 injuries at once makes it virtually impossible to get comfortable, and the pain is not just concentrated in one spot, it’s traveling in waves around the whole right side of his body.   
As if on cue, Yuuri shows up moments after Victor wakes up, bringing him a glass of water and a painkiller.   
“Good morning,” he says with a smile. “You’ll need to eat something soon for the meds to metabolize properly.”  
“You haven’t slept, have you?”  
Yuuri sighs. He thought he was doing so well in his pretense of being cheerful and nonchalant, but apparently Victor knows him too well to be fooled so easily.   
“Not really, no. But it’s okay. I’ll collapse eventually.”   
“How reassuring.”   
“Do you need help getting up?”  
“No, I think I’ll be fine.”   
Victor doesn’t actually know if he’ll be fine or not, but he’s intending to try managing on his own first, before asking for help.  
“Alright, call if you need anything. I’ll go make you breakfast.”   
After Yuuri leaves, Victor slowly, carefully gets out of bed. It hurts to move, but it’s manageable. It gets a bit more difficult, however, when he realizes that he essentially can only use one side of his body, so he can’t take off or put on clothes very effectively. He manages a robe for now, deciding to worry about more complex wardrobe options later.  
After taking 3 times as long as he usually does for his morning rituals, Victor finally pads out into the lounge, where Yuuri is waiting with breakfast.  
It turns out that he wasn’t joking about making breakfast. He actually made it himself, which really goes above and beyond a coach’s duty, but then, perhaps, Yuuri isn’t just Victor’s coach.   
Luckily, Yuuri is an excellent cook, though Victor is sure that if Yuuri simply gave him instant oatmeal that he’s made, it would still taste heavenly, because Yuuri is the one who’s made it.  
Over the months of his training, Victor has started realizing that his feelings for Yuuri were running deeper and deeper than mere affection, though he still isn’t sure what to do about that. He never really denied his own feelings about anything, but he didn’t necessarily act on them or admit them out loud, because he’d grown up in a household where his feelings didn’t matter, and he’d learned not to express them openly. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t fully aware of them himself.   
And sometimes, when Yuuri smiles at him just so, he thinks that maybe his feelings could even be returned. But the last thing he wants is to make Yuuri uncomfortable or scare him away. If things fall apart, he could probably find another coach. But he could never find another Yuuri. 

When time comes for Victor to finally take that shower, Yuuri is prepared. Mostly.   
He’s acquired a plastic cover for the cast, which allows Victor to let his arm get wet without fearing damaging the cast, but his shoulder is still basically non-functional, so he requires some assistance.   
Victor decides not to go in the onsen until the pain in his shoulder subsides a little, choosing instead a short perfunctory shower, but even that turns out to be not quite as simple. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t Victor’s dominant arm that was injured, but as it is, he’s having a hard time doing anything at all. At first he tries to manage on his own, but after hearing several suppressed groans and winces, Yuuri makes an executive decision that Victor needs help.   
It’s a strange experience. It’s not sensual, yet not entirely clinical either. It’s not intimate so much as just...tender. Yuuri carefully washes Victor’s body and hair. He doesn’t hesitate, driven by the knowledge that Victor needs him, that doing this for him is entirely right. His touch is gentle and caring, not arousing, just comforting. For a moment, Victor almost forgets about the pain, instead simply feeling warm inside and out.   
Yuuri towels him dry, then helps him into some loose clothing.   
Once it’s done, Victor smiles at him, and for the first time Yuuri feels self-conscious about the situation. He blushes a little, but Victor simply keeps smiling, letting out a contented sigh.  
“Thank you, Yuuri.”  
“You’re welcome,” Yuuri says quietly. “I’ll go make you dinner.”

Yuuri makes a recovery meal plan for Victor, which involves a lot of steamed and boiled vegetables, nuts and dried fruit, leafy greens, lots of herbs and spices that Yuuri explains to be anti-inflammatory, and seemingly a dozen different types of seaweed. There is a temporary prohibition on coffee and alcohol. Instead there are smoothies, herbal and fruit teas throughout the day. The most interesting thing about the meal plan, however, is that most of the cooking is done by Yuuri himself. For a while Victor feels almost guilty, but gradually he realizes that Yuuri is truly enjoying taking care of him, so he relaxes. Eventually, he actually starts thinking that he’ll miss Yuuri’s nurturing behavior once he’s recovered and there’s no longer a need for it.  
Before becoming Victor’s coach, Yuuri was never particularly interested in nutrition outside of knowing what caused him to rapidly gain weight. But since becoming Victor’s coach, he’s started researching a lot of things he’d only superficially cared about before. He would never actually say so out loud, because he wouldn’t want to add to Victor’s own fears, but he was scared of Victor suffering a serious injury from the day they started training. And he’s researched everything he could think of, from the best foods to promote healing to the best sleeping positions when suffering from a concussion. He’s really glad that that last one didn’t come in handy, and he rather hopes it never will.  
Providing as much assistance as possible to Victor is a grounding experience for Yuuri. When Victor got injured, Yuuri was really scared. So helping him recover as soon as possible, by any means necessary, is helping him keep calm and focused. It also gives him a sense of purpose. Because Victor is his student, and even if Yuuri can’t train him right now, he can still take care of him in any way he can. 

Victor recovers fairly quickly. His shoulder stops aching in about a week after the accident, which significantly improves his general mood and mobility. He and Yuuri fake being glad that Victor no longer needs help showering, and they soon replace it with a new routine, which involves Yuuri joining Victor in the hot spring, to watch over him and make sure he’s safe.   
In absence of training, Victor spends more time composing and working on demos. Once his shoulder recovers he can play his keyboard even with the cast on. He’s not at full capacity of course, but even so he can perform passably well, and it really takes the weight off his chest when he realizes that his musical performance likely won’t be impaired by the injury in the long run.  
One night when he’s in his room, playing, Yuuri passes his open door and stops to listen.  
Victor notices him halfway through the piece and pauses, causing Yuuri to stop breathing for a moment, then run away as soon as physically possible.  
“Yuuri...” Victor calls after him. “Come back.”   
He waits a little, unsure of whether his request will be answered, but after a few minutes, Yuuri creeps back toward Victor’s door, looking decidedly guilty.  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”  
“It’s alright,” Victor says with a smile. “Come in.”  
“What were you playing?” Yuuri asks, sitting down on Victor’s bed.  
“Just something I wrote recently.”  
“That was yours? You composed that?”  
“Yes.” Victor grins at Yuuri’s obvious approval.  
“Can you play it again?”  
“Sure! My performance isn’t the best right now, but I have a demo.”  
He finds the right track on his laptop and plays it for Yuuri.   
The sound quality is mediocre, and the arrangements are in formative stages, imitated by a synthesizer. But it’s still beautiful, and it makes Yuuri’s chest hurt a little. He's been Victor's fan for years, and there's something surreal about getting to hear his music before anyone else in the world.  
“Are there lyrics?”  
“Not yet. I’m not sure if I want to write any. Sometimes I like composing instrumental pieces, but they don’t sell as well as songs, and aren’t what’s expected of me, so I never really got the chance to put them on my records.”  
“Victor...” Yuuri’s eyes light up. “You could use this for your performance. Once you start skating competitively.”  
“Isn’t that a little...self-indulgent?”  
For a second Yuuri wants to make a sarcastic joke about Victor getting humble all of a sudden, but decides against it when he sees that Victor is truly uncertain about this. Sure, most of the time Victor is confident to the point of arrogance, but this is new territory for him, and he's not always certain where it's safe to step.   
“A lot of skaters do their own choreography, I don’t see how this is different.”  
“I suppose,” Victor says hesitantly. “You really think it would be good?”  
Yuuri beams so happily, it makes Victor feel like the room suddenly got brighter.  
“I think it will be perfect.”


	14. Chapter 14

About 3 and a half weeks into the recovery, Yuuri gradually starts putting Victor back on a training schedule. They do some exercises for leg strength, then core. Yuuri has to reel in his student’s excitement, because if he could, Victor would train all day even with his cast on, and Yuuri has to remind him that he needs his strength to heal.  
When the time finally comes for the cast to come off, the pain is almost entirely gone, and Victor can’t wait to get the damn thing off and go back to skating.  
Getting the cast off, of course, is not like it is in the movies.  
It’s not just popping it off, stretching, and you’re good as new. For one, getting the cast off is extremely unpleasant, because it pulls on the arm hairs that got caught in the plaster. For two, once the cast is off, a lot of the pain returns. Luckily, Victor didn’t have any of his joints trapped in the cast, so he doesn’t have to deal with too much atrophy, but moving his arm is quite painful regardless.  
The doctor reads him a lecture about physical therapy, shows him a few basic exercises, and sends him home.

Yuuri had been lucky enough to have never had a major injury in his life, but he’s read enough about recovery to have a pretty decent idea of what Victor is going through. In theory, of course.  
So he continues to cook for him, and watches him closely, and assists him in his physical therapy.  
They gradually get back on track with Victor’s everyday conditioning, and finally, finally Yuuri lets Victor get back on the ice.  
It’s...not as bad as Victor had feared. He hadn’t completely lost all of his skills, but he did lose quite a bit of his certainty, both because of the missed time and because of the emotional aftermath of the accident.  
Victor didn’t truly realize this during his recovery, but now that he’s back on the ice, he can’t help but be apprehensive, a little too careful, a little scared. He messed up, he hurt himself. And that could happen again.  
As Victor is standing in the middle of the rink, looking down at his skates, Yuuri skates up to him and takes both of his hands, causing Victor to look up.  
“You’ll be fine.”  
“You can’t know that,” Victor says, barely able to fake a smile.  
Yuuri sighs. He skates backwards, putting Victor along by his arms.  
“I can believe it,” he says, shrugging with one shoulder. “Coaching isn’t just about training, you know. It’s about believing in your skater. Because if you don’t, there’s really no point in training them in the first place.” He lets go of Victor’s hands and starts skating beside him, urging Victor to keep up. “And I do believe in you. Even during the times when you don’t believe in yourself. I’ll always believe in you.”

Victor's fears don't go away overnight, but he gradually regains his certainty. Yuuri makes sure that Victor has all of his basics down before progressing to anything new. For a while, Victor instinctively stays away from the barrier when he performs any kind of element, but gradually, his fear is starting to recede. He also settles into an understanding that injuries can, and likely will happen, but that's part of the sport too. He's a skater now, and this is an occupational hazard.  
Yuuri decides that this is the perfect time to give Victor a little extra motivation.  
“So,” he says one night during dinner, “there is a skating event in Fukuoka in 3 months. There will be a basic adult skating competition. If you want...you could participate.” He watches carefully for Victor’s reaction, but his face is unreadable. “It could be a test run, before you do anything more serious.”  
Victor takes a deep breath and tries his best not to look or sound patronizing.  
“Yuuri,” he says calmly, “I want to, I really do...”  
“Oh no, there’s a ‘but’ coming, isn’t there?” Yuuri looks down into his food, wondering how he could have gotten it this wrong. He was certain that Victor would be excited about this. He was certain Victor was ready.  
“There is no ‘test run’, when you’re an international celebrity.”  
“Oh...” Somehow Yuuri had not thought about that.  
“No matter how few people are there, there will likely be someone who will at least think my name is familiar. And then they’ll google me, and then they’ll realize that filming my performance and putting it on Youtube is absolutely crucial. And then it’s out the bag. That performance will be everywhere, and the press will rip into it from every direction.” Victor sighs, looking at Yuuri apologetically. “Of course I want to compete. But I can’t afford a test run. Whenever my first public performance is, it has to be perfect. Or at least really good.”  
Now Yuuri sighs too, and he almost wants to laugh at how stupid he was. How could he have not thought about this? He’s been Victor’s fan since he was barely into his teens, and now he suddenly somehow forgot that Victor was an international superstar and what that really meant.  
“I’m sorry. I hadn’t considered that.” He thinks fast. This may have been a poor call on his part, but he still had the right idea, so... “Alright, well, then I think we should aim for next year’s Regionals.”  
“The what?” Against his will, Victor can feel his excitement peeking. Because Yuuri looks so damn determined, and that always means two things – Yuuri looks ridiculously attractive, and something interesting is about to happen.  
“Before the national competition, there are Regionals, to select who will compete on the national level. Those events always have an adult competition as well. This isn’t to select competitors for adult Nationals, it's just an isolated event. It’s not too much pressure, as it’s not a qualifier, but it’s still a pretty big competition, in a fairly large arena, and if you win it – and I do think you can win it – that will be a good start to your career. And a pretty good first video for half the world to rewatch 7 million times.”  
Victor can suddenly hear his own heartbeat. Because things just sort of got very...real.  
“You’re serious?”  
“Of course.” Yuuri nods with that infectious and slightly terrifying confidence he occasionally summons from the back of his psyche when it's really needed. “If you want.”  
“How much time do we have to prepare?”  
“About a year and a half.”  
Victor thinks about this. It’s a lot of time. Too long a time, perhaps. But then again, it means he can learn more complex elements. Perfect them. His program won’t be entry level. If he works hard enough, it could actually end up being quite impressive.  
“Alright,” he says, as a happy smile takes over his features. “Let’s do it.”


	15. Chapter 15

They select a few more pieces Victor has composed during his time in Hasetsu, and Victor commissions an orchestra to record them, so that he can use them for his performances in the future.  
Yuuri starts to gradually build the technical composition of Victor’s first program.  
The competition he’ll be participating in won’t be too strict about what can and can’t be done, but eventually Victor will take part in national and, hopefully, international competitions, so they might as well start preparing now. 

“Do you want to choreograph your own programs?” Yuuri asks one day as he’s watching Victor glide aimlessly across the ice before his training session begins.  
Yuuri thinks he knows the answer, but he has to ask anyway.  
“I do,” Victor says without prevarication. “If you want to choreograph something for me, I’ll be honored, but...”  
“No, it’s okay. If you want to do it, you should do it.”  
Victor continues to glide around, looking down at his feet.  
“I’ve always seen choreography in my mind, when I listen to music. When I was younger, it was dance, and lately it’s been figure skating. I’m glad I can finally make use of it. Even if it won’t be as technically impressive as what’s in my head.”  
Victor’s voice is dripping with sadness of lost opportunities, but Yuuri doesn’t dare to pry. Instead he joins Victor on the ice to start his training.  
“Well, then,” he says with determination, “let’s give you as much as we can to work will, yeah? How about that Salchow?” 

It takes Victor a little over a week of training, but when he finally lands his first clean Salchow, he almost cries. It’s silly, he knows. It’s only a single jump, and one of the simpler ones at that, but it took him a fairly short time to actually land it, even if it will take times and times longer to perfect it. It means he can do it. It’s a stepping stone, a landmark, a checkpoint, etc. He’s so happy, he throws himself at Yuuri, almost knocking him down to the ice. After a few seconds of shock, Yuuri hugs him back, and they stand embracing on the ice until Victor calms down and they resume practice. 

Yuuri insists that Victor start doing ballet. Victor doesn’t protest, though he isn’t certain he’ll be good at it. He starts going to Minako’s studio 3 days a week, and soon realizes both how difficult ballet is, and how much it will help him with his skating.  
Victor is naturally flexible, but ballet soon makes him far more so, and his movements become more graceful and smooth.  
He is also pretty exhausted by the end of most days, and it feels incredible. He’s moving toward a goal now, and he’s improving, and he has a real chance to succeed, and yet...sometimes, just sometimes, he still feels like his whole skating career is nothing but a farce. 

During one of their ballet sessions, Minako can practically sense Victor’s mood hanging over the room.  
“What’s wrong?” she asks.  
Victor averts his eyes and shakes his head.  
“Nothing, just...bad weather, bad mood.”  
“Don't lie to me, Nikiforov. Spill.”  
Victor sighs. Minako is really no-nonsense, and he both loves and hates that about her.  
As much as he appreciates Yuuri’s unwavering faith in him, sometimes he wants to hear from someone who won’t spare his feelings.  
“How far can I really get?” he says, finally meeting Minako’s gaze. “I know there are different levels in adult skating, and I could compete and even win in the simplest category, but is that all I can ever hope for? How far can I even progress at this point? Will I ever be able to do triples, or doubles even? Flying spins? I just...” He sighs again. “I’m putting so much work in, and sometimes I wonder if all I can ever hope for is beating a few people who do this for fun in their spare time because they used to figure skate as kids.”  
Minako takes a moment to think it through, trying to find a balance between everything she could say and what she should actually say out loud.  
“You’re healthy, you’re flexible, you’re dedicated. People retire from sport young because by 30, they’re broken. You might have a disadvantage in age, but you have the advantage of never having been a professional athlete before. You never had to squeeze as much as possible out of your body while you still can, without caring what will be left of you by the time you retire. You’re aging, and that’s never great in sport, but at the same time, you don’t have between 15 and 25 to succeed. You have the rest of your life. You can take your time, progress at a healthy pace without ruining your body in the process.”  
Many things are left unsaid, from the fact that injury could take Victor out much quicker than it would a young athlete, to the fact that ‘the rest of your life’ may not be that long a time, as no one ever knows how long that is.  
“You haven’t really answered my question.”  
Minako simply nods.  
“That’s because I can’t. I don’t know how far you can go, Victor. No one knows. Forty years ago triple axels were considered superhuman. Now people are doing 5 quads in a single program. It’s hard to know what a human body can achieve.” She shrugs. “Everyone has expectation. The world functions on stereotypes. We think an adult athlete couldn’t possibly do what young people are doing, but that might not be true. People still claim that women can’t do quads, but that’s a load of crap. They can, and they do, but they’re actively prevented from practicing and perfecting them because gods forbid women prove being equal to men at something men thought only they could do, let alone upstage them.” She shakes her head and smiles. “Maybe you will do triples, maybe not. But don’t think of it as something you can or cannot do by some sort of biological default. It’s about what your own body will be able to handle, and that’s the only thing you should take into account – not expectations or previous history. Just yourself.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re lucky. You have the time, the resources, and a great coach. If you decide you want to do triples, he will let you. If you decide you want to do flying spins, he will let you. He’ll be terrified, and he’ll watch you like a hawk, and he’ll monitor your health to the point where you’ll be sick of it, but he will let you. And he will do everything he can to help you achieve whatever you want to achieve. Not everyone has that, so you’d better appreciate it.”  
“I do,” Victor says, feeling lighter and more motivated than he has in a while. He didn’t expect Minako to be quite so inspiring.  
“And another thing,” Minako says. “You have a natural talent. I can see it, Yuuri can see it, I’m sure you’re well aware of it yourself. I know this is probably not something you want to hear, but if you started young, if you competed in the Senior division, you could have had one of the greatest careers in figure skating.” She looks at Victor with certain eyes. “But here’s the thing, Nikiforov – no one takes adult figure skating seriously. Not really. There are adult skaters who are amazing, but no one is paying attention because, like I said before, the world is running on stereotypes. Everyone cares about what the kiddies can do, everyone sponsors them, everyone cheers for them, and they’re discarded at 30. People who start figure skating as adults are seen as hobbyists at best. But you...Victor, you’re a star. People will look at you because they care about your music career, but when you start competing, they will be blown away. Because whatever you will or won’t be able to do, you have a talent that cannot be denied. They’ll flock to your fame, but they’ll stay for your skating. And they’ll start paying attention. They’ll start watching adult figure skating, and it might finally get the recognition it deserves.” Her mouth twists into a dangerous smile. “Having an impressive career in the Senior division is great, but it’s nothing new. It’s been done before, and it’ll be done again. But having a great career in adult skating, a sport people refuse to take seriously – that’s not something we see every day. And you can do it, Nikiforov. You can make history.”


	16. Chapter 16

Landing jumps turns out to be both easier and harder than Victor had expected. He’d imagined that it would take him months to land a jump, but it actually takes him around a week. The hard part is landing the jump consistently, and that seems to be taking forever.  
“You’re doing great,” Yuuri says with an encouraging smile, as Victor is picking himself up from the ice.  
Today is dedicated to the toe loop, so Victor is wearing his protective gear. He has actually only fallen 3 times in the first 2 hours of the training session, and he considers it a success. However, he has also only landed the jump cleanly once, and that’s hardly something to be proud of.  
“You’re very kind, Yuuri, but no, I’m not,” Victor shoots back as he’s preparing to try the jump again.  
He lands it, but the landing is wobbly, and he groans.  
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Yuuri says as he glides up to Victor. “This is only your third week of working on this jump, and you’ve already landed it dozens of times.”  
“Not properly.”  
“You shouldn’t expect to land it perfectly in such short a time–”  
“Really?” Victor’s voice is suddenly angry, and his eyes are cold. “Maybe you should expect a little more from me. Maybe you should push me harder. Maybe if you didn’t mollycoddle me this much, I’d have more progress.”  
He skates off to the other side of the rink, leaving Yuuri rooted to the spot.  
Yuuri wants to run. All of his fears about being a bad coach have suddenly been thrown into his face by his student, and he wants to run away and never come back.  
But he can’t, because there’s still an hour left of today’s session, and it’s his job and his duty to continue. So he stays where he is, even as nausea is gradually building up in his stomach and his fingertips are tingling with the force of suppressed anxiety.  
Victor goes into the jump again, and falls.  
“You’re leaning forward too much on the entry,” Yuuri says. His voice is quiet and broken, but it’s amplified by the acoustics of the empty rink.  
Victor nods and tries again, and again, and again.  
By the end of the session, he’s landed the jump cleanly 5 times.  
They shower, change, and walk back home in silence.  
When they arrive back at Yu-topia, Victor goes to his room to rest and prepare for his ballet session later in the day.  
Yuuri throws up, then curls up in his bed and doesn’t move for 7 hours. 

Victor knows he’s messed up, but he doesn’t know just how much until he realizes that Yuuri missed dinner and hasn’t come out of his room all day. Victor doesn’t always understand quite how anxiety works, but he can recognize when it’s wreaking havoc on Yuuri’s mind. And he knows this time it’s entirely his fault.  
He goes to Yuuri’s room and knocks on the door, but no answer comes. He stays there for several minutes, hoping for an answer. He doesn't try to open the door, even though there's a chance it might be unlocked. He decides he's done enough damage for one day. He's not going to invade Yuuri's privacy. He'll just wait and hope that eventually Yuuri chooses to let him in.  
Soon Vicchan joins him and starts whining quietly and pawing at the door.  
Eventually, there’s sound of movement coming from inside the room.  
“You can come in,” Yuuri says quietly.  
Victor opens the door, slowly entering the darkened room. Yuuri is sitting up in bed, wrapped up in his blanket. Vicchan immediately jumps up and licks Yuuri’s face and hands, still whining a little.  
Victor sits down on the floor beside the bed, facing Yuuri.  
“I’m so sorry,” he says, bowing his head slightly. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You’re an incredible coach, and I’m lucky to have you. I shouldn’t have blamed my slow progress on you. It wouldn’t have made a difference if you yelled at me all the time and bullied me instead of encouraging.” He sighs. “To be honest, I probably would’ve paid a lot less attention to you if you did.”  
“Your progress is not slow,” Yuuri says, his voice barely audible.  
“I know!” Victor groans. “I know, it’s just...I want things to go faster, and I just...I needed someone to blame for the fact that they’re not. I’m sorry.”  
“Okay.”  
Yuuri lies back down, and Vicchan places himself by his side.  
Victor isn’t sure what to do now. He knows that even though things have been resolved and his apology has seemingly been accepted, it doesn’t necessarily mean that Yuuri is going to suddenly feel great and as though nothing has ever happened.  
Yuuri was never really mad at Victor. Of course, Victor's words hurt, but the source of Yuuri's anxiety had been there long before today. Victor's words brought it all to the forefront of Yuuri's mind, and though it's nice that Victor apologized, and it does make Yuuri feel a little better, his doubts and fears haven't magically dissipated.  
“Do you want food?” Victor asks awkwardly. “I could bring you something.”  
“Thank you, but I can’t right now.”  
“Do you want me to leave now?”  
Yuuri doesn’t really, but it also feels strange to ask Victor to stay. It’s late, and Victor is no night owl, plus he’s been training all day and must be tired.  
“No,” Yuuri says. “You don’t have to.”  
Victor is getting tired of the uncertainty, so he tries to go for a bold move and come what may.  
“Do you mind if I stay the night here then?” he asks. “I think we could both use some comfort right now.”  
Yuuri hesitates, but not for very long. He moves a little to the far side of his bed, making room for Victor. Vicchan understands what’s happening and moves down to the end of the bed, curling into a ball at Yuuri’s feet.  
Victor lies down, and for a while they stay like that, looking at each other. Eventually, Yuuri unwraps the blanket from around himself and lifts one edge, inviting Victor in.  
They both know it’s not really what one would call part of an average coach-student relationship, but neither cares enough to stop. Victor enters Yuuri’s blanket cocoon and wraps his arms around Yuuri in a gentle hug. After a few moments of stiffness, Yuuri relaxes, melting in Victor’s arms. They both fall asleep within minutes.


	17. Chapter 17

Strangely enough, it’s Yuuri who wakes up first. It happens sometimes when his anxiety is in full swing. It disrupts his sleep and he wakes up early. But today, Yuuri is sure, that’s not really the cause. He’s actually feeling much better now. Of course, his fears about being a bad coach have not, and probably never will completely go away, but Victor’s apology was actually quite effective. He didn’t just say he was sorry for his words, he’s highlighted what Yuuri was doing _right_ ; so for now, Yuuri’s anxiety has eased a little. At least he no longer feels like throwing up.  
He does, however, need to pee. Because he spent most of the previous day in his room, and even though he cried out much of the liquid in his body, some of it has made it to his bladder and was now demanding to be let out.  
Yuuri doesn’t want to move. Because Victor is sleeping with his head on Yuuri’s shoulder, and the feeling is so incredible that Yuuri isn’t sure how he’s lived his whole life without it. Nor how he will continue to live without it after this night ends.  
It’s still dark outside. Yuuri can’t reach his phone to check the time, but it doesn’t matter. It’s well before dawn.  
He enjoys his current situation for as long as he can, until he’s finally forced to get up and take care of his body’s needs.  
When he comes back, he sees that Victor is still asleep, and he hesitates for a moment. It’s his own bed, it seems strange to hesitate to return to it, but it would mean lying down next to Victor again, and it feels like he should ask permission for that beforehand.  
In the end, he gives up and crawls back into bed. Victor doesn’t wake up, and instead wraps himself around Yuuri the second he’s back in bed.  
“Yuuri...” Victor mumbles in his sleep as he makes himself comfortable.  
Yuuri feels what seems to be a literal warmth in his chest. Because Victor is still asleep. He embraced Yuuri and said his name unconsciously, as if it was implied that this is just how things are. Like it’s just meant to be. Like it’s entirely natural for Victor to cuddle Yuuri in his bed.  
In a wave of affection, Yuuri places a kiss on top of Victor’s head, then promptly falls back asleep. 

Victor wakes up a few hours later, but unlike most mornings, he doesn’t rush to get out of bed and start the day as soon as possible. He savors the comfort of being in Yuuri’s bed, staying in the warm cave of his blanket until Yuuri’s alarm goes off.  
For a moment, Yuuri looks adorably confused. Then he remembers what’s happening, reaches for his phone to turn off the alarm, and settles back down beside Victor. They look at each other and smile. And even though Yuuri’s alarm is set pretty late and doesn’t allow much spare time, they stay in bed for a while longer before getting up and preparing to go to the rink.

After that night, the physical boundaries between them start to gradually break down. They touch more, they sit closer, they cuddle on the couch. They don’t talk about it, don’t address it verbally. But sometimes one of them comes into the other’s bedroom in the evening, and they sleep in the same bed. They do so more and more often, until it’s no longer a decision whether or not they’ll sleep together. The only decision is whose bed they’ll sleep in.  
It’s usually Victor’s because it’s actually bigger and is more comfortable for the 3 of them.  
The 3 of them, yes, because Vicchan simply follows them to wherever they choose to sleep and curls up at their feet.  
Yuuri hasn’t slept this well in years. Victor doesn’t mind the late mornings he would have otherwise considered to be wasted, if it means he gets to spend them cuddled up to Yuuri.

Time doesn’t exactly fly, but it seems to pass faster than before. Because there is a productive routine now, an inherent trust, and a shared comfort.  
And before they know it, it’s no longer a year and a half until Victor’s first planned competition, but only a few months. His program is mostly ready. He doesn’t always perform it perfectly, but it’s solid and he knows it well.  
Adult skaters will only be performing one program at this event, which gives Victor an opportunity to perfect his program without dividing his focus. To the point where he starts to wonder if he’s no longer challenging himself.

“I want to do doubles,” Victor says one day during practice.  
“No,” Yuuri replies quietly. His heart breaks a little at the sight of betrayal on Victor’s face. “No, Victor, I don’t mean in general. Of course you can do doubles, will do doubles. Just...not for this program. There’s not enough time.”  
“Oh.” Victor sighs with a small smile. “You’re right. I know.” He shrugs. “The program just seems too easy now.”  
“That’s a good thing. You want to skate with ease, not gamble with elements you might not be ready to perform.”  
Victor looks at Yuuri with a challenge in his eyes.  
“Do you really believe that?” He waits, but Yuuri doesn’t respond. “Did you always skate what was easy? Only do jumps you knew you could land?”  
Yuuri tries to fight back a guilty smile, but fails.  
“No. No, I didn’t.” He casts a pleading look at Victor. “But I don’t think you should put doubles in this program, there’s just not enough time...”  
Victor puts up a hand to halt his pleas.  
“I know, I know. I can’t perfect a jump in a few months time. But...maybe I could do the Axel?”  
“You only land that about a third of the time.”  
“I know,” Victor says with a mischievous grin and skates away.  
Yuuri looks at him with something between fear and excitement in his heart.


	18. Chapter 18

About a month before the competition, Yuuri decides to do something for Victor that he hopes will be both useful and exciting. He also knows, however, that it might be a terrible idea, and completely unwelcome; but it can always be canceled if Victor decides that he doesn’t want to do it.  
“Victor, I was thinking...” he says during practice one morning, with quite a bit of uncertainty in this voice. “I know you can’t really have a test run competition because of your fame, but...there’s something else we can do.” He takes a deep breath. “I was thinking...we could gather up a few people we trust. My family, Minako, Yuuko and Takeshi, maybe a few family friends that we trust – and you could perform your routine for them?”  
He waits – momentarily failing to breathe – for Victor’s answer.  
Gradually, as Victor considers the idea, his eyes light up.  
“Yes!” he practically yells, jumping up and hugging Yuuri. “When can we do it?”  
“Well, I actually already had it all set up for next Friday. I’d just cancel if you said no.”  
“Yuuri...” Victor says, hugging him a little closer. “Thank you.”  
Yuuri relaxes and hides his face in Victor’s shoulder. 

Victor finds himself strangely nervous as the day of his test-run performance gradually approaches. It’s only some close friends, people he knows and trusts, but somehow that makes it worse. He’s performed for thousands of strangers many, many times during his music career, but the intimacy of this event somehow feels like more pressure.  
On the day of the performance, Victor is almost shaking with nerves, which is not something that happens to him very often. He’s been performing in various capacities for many years, and this shouldn’t be different, but somehow it is. He wonders if it will be the same when he skates at the actual competition, and all subsequent competitions. He wonders if he feels this way because of the intimacy of the event, or because it’s his first time skating for an audience. He wonders if Yuuri will be disappointed in him if he fails.  
He peeks out from the locker room to see that everyone has gathered.  
Yuuri has made sure that no one has any recording devices. The triplets were allowed in only after a very thorough search and some stern words from their parents.  
There really aren’t that many people present. Maybe about 15. Victor can hear his own heart beating and thinks that’s probably not normal.  
Just as he’s about to start panicking, Yuuri appears by his side and gives him a kind smile.  
“Victor, remember, it’s okay if it doesn’t go well. This is why we test run. To see your weaknesses and work on them.”  
“Right.” Victor nods a little too vigorously.  
Yuuri hugs Victor lightly and places a soft kiss on his shoulder.  
“However it goes, I’ll be proud of you.” 

Victor skates...fine. Not poorly, not greatly, just...fine.   
He performs most of the elements well enough, except for almost falling on one of the jumps. Technically, the performance is passable, but his presentation is nowhere near anything remotely approaching his full potential.  
When he’s done, everyone applauds, because they want to support Victor, and because most of them had actually expected something much worse. Yuuri had warned them that Victor’s skill level was still fairly low and he had very little experience, so most of the audience that day had fairly low expectations.  
Yuuri is trying to find words to praise Victor without sounding insincere, and at the same time work on improvements. Victor is beating himself up mentally, and is considering beating himself up physically somehow as well, because that was just not good. He could do so much better. He is better than this.  
“I’m sorry,” he says once the rink is empty of everyone but him and his coach. He’s sitting on a bench, looking over the ice guiltily, like he’s betrayed it. “You got all these people, your family, your friends, to come here for me, and I did...that.”  
He groans. Yuuri’s heart sinks.  
“Victor, it really wasn’t that ba–”  
“I know it wasn’t bad, Yuuri, but it wasn’t good either, was it?”  
Yuuri sighs and sits down next to Victor, leaning into him fully.  
“This might not be helpful, but...the first time I skated publicly, I face-planted. Had to get stitches.” He takes Victor’s hand in his and guides it to his chin. “Right here. The scar’s mostly gone by now, but you can still feel it if you try.”  
He smiles at Victor’s dumbfounded expression.  
“How old were you?”  
“A little over 6.”  
Victor gives him an annoyed smile.  
“That’s hardly comparable.”  
“Sure it is. The first public performance is never easy. Even if you’re really good, even if you’ve skated your routine hundreds of times, there’s just some sort of shift in your mind when people are watching.”  
“I’m not sure that’s even the problem,” Victor says with a sigh and rests his head on Yuuri’s shoulder.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I don’t know, it’s just...I’ve always felt fine performing for large audiences, faceless audiences. But this was so small and intimate, with people I actually know. It felt different. I’ve performed in front of full stadiums and it didn’t feel so terrifying.”  
That gives Yuuri a plethora of emotions that he can't quite identify, but guilt is definitely present.  
“I...I hadn’t thought of that. Victor, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to put you in a position where you’d be so uncomfortable.”  
“No, no, don’t worry. I wanted this, and I didn’t know it’d feel this way. Live and learn, right?” He lifts his head so he can face Yuuri. “I appreciate that you did this for me. It was a good learning experience. Which is the point, right?”  
Yuuri opens and closes his mouth a few times before he can form a coherent response.  
“Yeah. Right.”  
“Well then, coach,” Victor says, heading toward the ice and taking off his guards. “The rink’s still booked for another hour. Might as well...address my weaknesses.”  
He does a lap around the rink before returning to Yuuri for instructions, which gives Yuuri just enough time to compose himself.  
“Okay, well, your spins were great, but right before you went into the toe loop, I could practically feel your hesitation. You didn’t go into the jump correctly, which was why you touched down. Let’s run through that bit to see what the problem is.”  
Victor nods and starts his routine from the specified section. He feels the tension gradually draining from his body. It feels good to go back to work. Maybe his performance wasn’t perfect, or even good, but that just means that now he can make it better.


	19. Chapter 19

Yuuri makes most of the arrangements for Victor’s first competitive performance. Generally, this sort of thing would terrify him, and he was always grateful that his coach did it all for him, but he finds that doing it for someone else is actually a lot less nerve-wracking than doing it for yourself. There’s a sense of purpose and necessity. A lot of pressure too, yes, but it’s more motivating than debilitating.  
He makes arrangements to have Victor’s performance be a surprise. He’s listed as a wild card performer, even though that’s not a common practice for the kind of competition he’s entering. The organizers of the event are very cooperative, however, when Yuuri tells them that either they accommodate for Victor or he does not perform. They weigh their options in no time and decide that the limited post-event attention they’ll get because of Victor’s performance is better than not getting it at all. 

They arrive a day before the competition, to allow Victor to relax after the trip. They share a room, in which they hide most of the time before the competition, not risking being seen. Yuuri still gets spotted by a reporter, but when he’s conveniently asked if he’s there to watch Regionals, he simply says yes. After that he escapes, grateful that he doesn’t have to attempt lying about why he’s really there, because he’s never been particularly good at that.  
Victor is surprised to find that he does not feel as nervous as he thought he’d be. Not nearly as nervous as he was during his little performance back in Hasetsu, which they’ve been lovingly calling Onsen on Ice.  
Even though this is his first figure skating competition, even though this will undoubtedly be seen and remembered by millions of people, he feels more empowered than scared.  
In fact, Yuuri is a lot more nervous than Victor is. Even his anti-anxiety medication doesn’t quite counteract for the amount of terror he’s experiencing right now. He doesn’t even know why he’s so nervous. He’s not the one skating. And no one will really blame him if Victor doesn't perform well, because Victor is so new to this sport, it would be understandable if he didn't perform perfectly in his first competition ever. Then there's also the fact that most people don't expect all that much from adult skaters in the first place, though Yuuri feels guilty the second that thought pops into his head. Victor is dedicated to his sport and works as hard as any athlete Yuuri has ever known. Other people's prejudice toward adult figure skating does not diminish the value of the sport, nor the effort put in by the athletes, so it's hardly something a coach should even take into consideration when thinking about their skater's upcoming competition. Especially considering that Yuuri knows perfectly well just how much this really means to Victor and how devastating it could be for him if he happened to fail.  
He shakes his head, staring out of their hotel room window. However it goes, he’ll be proud of Victor. He knows that without a doubt. He can hold on to that.

On the day of the competition, they arrive in disguise, so that they can watch some of the other performances without being spotted.  
“I look ridiculous,” Yuuri whispers as they enter the arena.  
“No, you don’t,” Victor assures him. He’s accustomed to disguises, but he knows it’s new for Yuuri, and he does remember how strange it felt at first. “It just seems to you that way because you know you’re in disguise. Other people don’t know, so they don’t think of it the way you do.”  
“Right.”  
Yuuri understands the logic, but it doesn’t necessarily help. He can’t wait to take off the silly tinted glasses he has on right now and get his own back on. Victor thinks Yuuri actually looks pretty good in those glasses. Then again, Victor thinks Yuuri looks good in just about anything. 

The adult competition is jammed between the ladies’ and mens’ free skates. Unlike the seniors, the adults only do one program, as this competition is more of an attraction than an official competition in any way relevant to the major events.  
Ladies go first. As Victor watches, he thinks the competition is not very fair, as the competitors aren’t broken into age groups and skill levels the way they usually would be in adult competitions. There simply aren’t enough participants to have those divisions. There were some limitations as to age and skill during the application process, so it’s not entirely unregulated, but it still seems a bit unfair when people who can barely do a waltz jump have to skate against someone who can land doubles.  
The skater who wins the ladies’ competition is so good that Victor is secretly grateful he doesn’t have to compete against her, because he probably wouldn’t have any chances.  
He wonders if he’ll see her skate again. At an international competition, perhaps. Victor knows he probably shouldn’t assume that he himself will be at an international competition any time soon, but it still feels nice that such a possibility is not at all out of the question.

As the mens’ program begins, Victor is starting to feel his nervousness rising. Yuuri notices and immediately takes Victor’s hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly.  
They watch a few performances. Some boost Victor’s confidence, others...not so much.  
Finally, Victor stops watching in favor of doing a few stretches.  
He’s skating last so as not to distract attention from any skaters who would have otherwise skated after him.  
When at last all the other skaters have finished their performances, Victor’s name is announced.  
There are some confused murmurs in the audience as some of the spectators recognize his name. Most assume they misheard. But then Victor walks out, flashes his signature smile to the audience, and is greeted with a few shocked gasps.  
Yuuri smiles at him as he takes Victor’s guards. Victor smiles back. And then he’s on the ice, taking his position in the middle of the rink.  
He doesn’t feel nervous anymore. This is just like playing a concert for millions of people. But better. Because this is his dream. And finally, he gets to do what he wants.

*****

As Yuuri watches Victor skate, he almost cannot believe it. Because it’s so very...different. Victor skating in private, Victor skating for a tiny audience of friends, and Victor skating here, during a real competition, are very different things.  
There aren’t that many people in the arena, a little over a thousand. But even so, Victor is somehow feeding off their energy, off their attention. Yuuri could never quite master this skill, instead being scared of being watched, being scared of everyone seeing him fail. But Victor is different. To him, this attention is fuel. And everything he’s learned, everything he can do is suddenly so much better.  
His elements aren’t perfect, his jumps aren’t as clean as they could be, but it almost doesn’t matter, because everyone is captivated, and Victor is drinking it in, becoming stronger.  
There is also a very obvious difference between Victor and the other competitors, even the ones with a similar skill level. Many of the other skaters, despite their relatively good technique, looked insecure. They looked almost as if they were too afraid to fall. They were careful, cautious.  
There’s none of that in Victor’s performance. He’s skating like he has no fear. Like he’s done it since he was 3 and is so comfortable that there’s no room for hesitation.  
As his coach, Yuuri can’t help but be proud. As a skater, he can’t help but admire Victor’s courage and confidence. But a part of him, the part that cares about Victor as a person, can’t help but be a little bit scared. Because fearlessness is half a step away from recklessness. And above all else, he doesn’t want Victor to get hurt.

Skating to his own music is not nearly as strange as Victor had feared it would be. It’s comfortable. Like a pair of shoes, or skates, that have broken down to fit your feet and no one else’s.  
Victor notices some of the small mistakes he’s made during his performance, but he doesn’t worry about it just yet. Because this feels so damn great, and for now mistakes don’t really matter.  
The music he’s written for this performance is about his new-found passion, his life in Hasetsu, his love for skating, for art, for Yuuri.  
For his last jump, he has a Salchow planned. But of course, Victor being Victor, he goes ahead and does an Axel instead. The landing is ever-so-slightly wobbly, but it’s almost imperceptible for any but the most trained of eyes.  
He knows, in the grand scheme of things, this Axel is nothing. But it’s a personal risk, and a personal achievement, so it’s worth everything.  
He finishes his skate with a spin and a dramatic pose. The music stops.  
For a while, there’s silence. And then the crowd goes moderately wild. By now most of the people in the audience have learned who he was and were watching in surprise and amusement, surreptitiously taking videos.  
Victor laughs a little to himself. He’s had audiences of millions scream in ecstasy at his concerts. But this, this tiny crowd of barely a thousand and a half people, most of whom were not his fans, most of whom did not come here to see him – this felt almost more significant than any audience reaction he’s ever received.  
It isn’t that Victor doesn’t care about his fans. Of course he does. He appreciates their support and their love. But they love him for something he doesn’t fully love himself. That does not make their affections and devotion any less important.  
But Victor’s feelings are no less valid. And right now, he feels like he’s finally appreciated for something that he himself truly loves.

As he steps off the ice, he’s greeted by Yuuri’s kind, proud smile.  
“Nice Axel,” he says.  
“You knew I’d do that, didn’t you?”  
Yuuri was about 97% certain Victor would do the Axel. He’s not even upset about it. Because this is Victor. It would almost be wrong if he didn’t do it.  
“Yeah, I did.”  
After Victor puts his guards on, he twines his fingers with Yuuri’s and they go to the Kiss&Cry to see the announcement of Victor’s winning score.


	20. Chapter 20

Most of the reporters at the event are not there for the adult figure skaters. They barely care about them, they barely even paid any attention. But then the Victor Nikiforov bomb is dropped, and suddenly, they all very much care.  
After the award ceremony where Victor is handed the first gold of his figure skating career, reporters swarm him, bombarding him with questions, in Japanese, in English, even a few in very broken Russian.   
“Are you planning to keep skating, or is this just a hobby to pass time?”  
“Will you go back to your music career?”  
“Why are you skating here?”  
“Will you represent Russia or Japan?”  
“Who’s your coach?”  
And that’s when they finally notice Yuuri, who was rather hoping to blend in with his surroundings, because though he’s very proud of his skater and the work they’ve done together, this media thing is really not his forte.  
“Your own Katsuki Yuuri!” Victor cheerfully informs the reporters. “He’s been coaching me, and he’s the best coach anyone could ever ask for!”  
The reporters then redirect their attention to Yuuri, grateful to be in familiar territory. Because at least they all know who he is. Most of them had to google Victor to be able to ask him appropriate questions. They knew he was famous, but that was about as much as most of them knew.   
Yuuri answers several questions about coaching, with Victor occasionally intercepting some of the questions and responding in generic terms that don’t give anything away.  
There is no press conference for adult figure skaters, so the reporters are forced to make the best of the little time they have between the adult competitions and the men’s free skate starting after the ice gets resurfaced.   
They manage to keep Victor and Yuuri pinned for over an hour, frantically coming up with as many questions as they can to be the first ones to cover what they can all recognize to be a show-business sensation, even if most of the reasoning behind its importance lies outside of the figure skating world. 

When they finally manage to escape to the locker rooms, most of the other adult skaters are long gone. Only two are still in the arena, and Victor notices them giving him angry looks as they pass him. He waltzed into this tiny world and hogged the attention. Undoubtedly, many believe he didn’t even deserve to win, as his skill level is actually pretty low compared to a few of the other skaters. But then again, his performance was so beautiful and captivating, that at least some of the anger toward him is caused by good-old simple envy.   
As Victor and Yuuri exit the arena, they are approached by a few fans., who are equally enthusiastic about both Victor and Yuuri because, of course, Victor is the bigger star, but this also is a figure skating competition in Japan, so Yuuri might actually have a bigger audience here than Victor does.  
They pose for a few photos, give a few autographs, and the fans leave with grateful bows and words of appreciation.   
In the cab to their hotel, Victor goes online and finds at least 17 separate videos of his performance, all already with views in the thousands. Most of them will be taken down soon, and the official video filmed by the event organizers will go live on their website and youtube channel as per Victor’s contract with them.   
Yuuri wonders if this might be the first time in history that an adult figure skating competition tacked onto the main event as an afterthought might actually be getting more attention than the Seniors. Because Victor’s Twitter currently flashes 3793 new notifications, and even Yuuri’s social media accounts that he’s all but abandoned since retiring are getting disproportionate levels of attention.   
At least 35 of Yuuri’s currently unread messages on various platforms, however, are from Phichit. 

When they finally arrive at the hotel and make it into their room, Yuuri lets out an enormous sigh of relief. This was fun and exciting, but also sort of...a little too fun and exciting. He’s glad he can finally rest from all the attention, and noise, and people.  
He closes his eyes for a little bit, collecting himself, relaxing as much as possible.  
When he finally opens them, he realizes that Victor has been silent and unmoving for a long time, and is now standing in the middle of the room, holding his medal in his hand and just...staring at it.   
Yuuri approaches him carefully. Victor looks up at him with a smile, and it’s so, so different from all the smiles he’s been flashing to the photographers, reporters, and even fans. It’s timid, almost unsure.   
“I won,” he says quietly.  
“Yes, you did.”  
“I won Gold,” he reiterates. “I mean, I know it’s acrylic, but still.”  
Yuuri grins and wraps his arm around Victor’s shoulders.  
“You deserve it. I mean, the first place, not the...acrylic.”  
Victor lets out a giggle, unable to hold it in, because his emotions are finally spilling out. He’s been holding them in up until now, hidden behind fake smiles and well-practices media-friendly excitement. But now he’s actually allowing himself to feel this. He won. He performed in his very first figure skating competition. And he won.  
A tear escapes his eye, and he laughs.   
Yuuri stares at him, his mouth slightly open in surprise. Because the raw emotion on Victor’s face is almost shocking in its sincerity. The genuine happiness that, even after having known him for over 2 years now, Yuuri can’s say he’s seen on Victor’s face very often. If ever.   
He doesn’t know if it’s the rush of Victor’s win, the way he looks, or the increasing levels of physical closeness they’ve been enjoying of late, but he gives in to an impulse. He tilts his face up, pushing himself onto the balls of his feet to give himself a bit more height, and he plants a kiss on Victor’s lips.


	21. Chapter 21

The kiss only lasts for a few seconds, and as soon as it’s over, Yuuri panics.  
His eyes widen, and he steps back, putting distance between himself and Victor.  
“I’m sorry!” he almost screams. “I shouldn’t have done that! I should have asked first! That was so rude...”  
Victor looks at Yuuri in surprise and confusion, and a little bit of amusement. The latter however dies quickly as he realizes that Yuuri’s breathing is becoming faster and his face has gone pale.  
“Yuuri, Yuuri, look at me,” Victor says as calmly as he can. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”  
Victor understands Yuuri’s reaction, because Yuuri does have a point – kissing someone without asking first really is quite rude, whether or not the kiss is actually welcome. But in that moment Victor is just trying to help Yuuri calm down, so he’s repeating whatever reassurances he thinks might work.  
Yuuri lets out an unintelligible sound and shakes his head.  
Victor doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to do or not, but the best thing he can think of is to come up to Yuuri and wrap his arms around him. Yuuri stiffens and yelps in surprise, but after a moment, he relaxes into Victor’s embrace.  
They stay like that for several minutes as Yuuri’s breathing evens out.  
“I’m sorry,” he says again as he finally disentangles himself from Victor.  
“It’s okay. You surprised me. But not in a bad way.”  
Yuuri giggles nervously and nods at nothing in particular.  
“Thank you. For...” He vaguely gestures to signify Victor’s hug. “This could have gotten pretty bad.”  
Panic attacks are not fun, and generally once one starts, it’s difficult to stop. Yuuri is genuinely surprised that Victor’s approach was so successful.  
“I’m glad it worked. I wasn’t sure if it would.” Victor gently guides Yuuri to one of the beds. They sit down side by side, their thighs touching. “I once read that hugging can calm down the nervous system.”  
Yuuri can’t help a smile spreading across his face, even as his chest still feels heavy, and his breathing still isn’t entirely back to normal.  
“You’re telling me you hugged me for medical reasons?”  
“Ah...sure. Let’s go with that,” Victor says, mirroring Yuuri’s smile. “It was mostly instinctual,” he admits.  
Victor rests his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder as he does more and more these days.  
Yuuri decides that since his emotional stability has already been disrupted, he might as well keep going.  
“So...” he say quietly. “You didn’t mind then?”  
He doesn’t have to clarify. Victor lifts his head, then gently touches Yuuri’s chin, guiding it to face him.  
“I didn’t mind at all,” he says, and very slowly, very softly, kisses Yuuri back.

They sleep wrapped around each other that night, as they usually do. But it feels different. There’s a new layer to their closeness. And when they wake, they smile at each other and kiss, neither of them hesitating.

The next day they finally start properly going through their messages, emails, and voice mails. Victor has only gone through a short portion of his incoming correspondence, but already he's found at least 7 invitations to skate at exhibitions and private events. He’s also received several messages from coaches offering their services, to which he responds with short, dry replies, and subsequently deletes in something between spite and irritation. He knows he should be flattered, and he knows at least some of those coaches truly mean well. He also knows there's a good chance some or all of them just want to coach a celebrity, but that's not what annoys him so much. He just can’t help but feel the largely irrational anger at the idea that anyone would ever think that he’d need a different coach.  
The official, high-quality video of Victor’s performance goes live in the early hours of the morning, and receives close to a million views by the time Yuuri and Victor check out of their hotel room to head back home.  
Messages keep piling up, especially Victor’s. His professional email is overflowing, and he thinks it might be time to hire a publicist again. He hasn't had a proper publicist or manager since going on hiatus in his music career, as he largely simply ignores the people and companies that try to contact him about a come-back tour or album. He has someone who screens his professional emails and calls, and forwards him anything that he might actually want to consider, but now he has a whole new career, and it might be time to get someone more hands-on and aware of the sports world. Someone has to go through all these emails and understand if there's actually anything of worth in them, and it's not going to be Victor.  
He gets quite a few personal messages as well, from former co-workers and friends he hasn't been in touch with in years. He even receives a message from Yakov. A short bit of praise and congratulations, which is both dry by general standards, but overwhelmingly emotional by Yakov’s.  
Yuuri finally returns Phichit’s calls, having to hold his phone away from his ear for a few moments as his friend yells in excitement.  
Phichit is one of the few people who had known about Victor’s training, and despite being glad to be let in on such a big secret, he also suffered quite a bit from how difficult it was for him to keep it. Now that it’s finally out in the open, he does not hesitate to scream his happiness as he’s finally allowed to speak about it openly. He also reblogs and retweets a myriad of videos and articles that highlight Victor's figure skating debut, especially ones that include Yuuri. He loses a few followers over it, but barely even notices. This is an important moment in his best friend's new career as a coach, and he's not going to be quiet about it. 

By mid-afternoon, Yuuri and Victor are finally on their way back to Hasetsu, with thousands of messages to sort through still, dozens of offers to consider, calls to return, future plans to make, and a new relationship to explore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. Apologies that it's so short, but I felt this needed to be a separate chapter.  
> Thank you everyone for reading, kudoing, and bookmarking. Special thanks to those who took the time to comment, that was very kind of you. :)  
> I don't really know if anyone is interested, but well, this is now a series.  
> Part 2 will have a bit of angst sandwiched in the midst of fluff (no relationship turmoil though), so take that into consideration when you decide whether it's something you want to read.  
> I haven't been able to come up with a better name for the series. I'm sort of disappointed in myself. XD  
> Anyway, thanks again to everyone who stuck with this till the end! And to those who are coming along for part 2 - I'll see you, you know, next level.


End file.
